Now or Never
by DreamingOfHalcyons
Summary: "Stiles," She starts, she wets her lips slightly and feels her mouth go dry. It's now or never with how she feels, she's going to need him now more than ever and if anything happens to them here she wants him to know the truth. "I think I'm in love with you." It's a whisper but nevertheless she says it like a prayer. (A supernatural Stydia story)
1. Chapter One

**I'm really looking forward to completing this story so I really hope you all like it. This chapter is shorter than the other ones will be, sorry!**

 **So please, please favorite/follow and review :)**

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It had been four months since Lydia's first semester at College started and she could slowly feel herself begin to wear away. Lydia didn't feel like herself anymore, she couldn't sleep properly at night, she couldn't stop thinking if Kira was okay with the skin-walkers, she couldn't stop wondering what Derek and Malia were off fighting or what girl Stiles was hooking up with. She shivered at the thought. No-one had even heard from Kira since senior year when she left Beacon Hills for the skin-walkers and Lydia was scared something bad had happened. She wondered if Scott thought this too. Malia decided not to do College in the end, she paired up with her long-lost cousin Derek and now they travel and help protect the cities that are affected by supernatural creatures. Now Lydia's at Stanford and Scott and Stiles are both at San Jose.

 _Stiles_. Lydia couldn't get her mind off of him even if she tried. Every thought she had of Stiles consumed her, she thought of him when she woke up and when she fell asleep. It was obsessive, really but Lydia couldn't help it. She wondered if he would just randomly turn up at her flat to say 'Hi', but he didn't. They texted often but there was nothing she craved more than the presence of him. Right before she left for College he told her how he felt, he poured his heart out to her telling her everything he has ever thought and felt but Lydia couldn't find it in her to say any of it back. So she let it slip. Thankfully their relationship didn't become awkward or sad he just acted like it never happened which Lydia was thankful for, she had loving issues.

She tried hard to be normal, tried to pretend she wasn't a banshee but she was and the beautiful red-headed girl that passed everyone in the hall with a smile had felt her best-friends death come and swallow her whole. How does something like that just stop? It stays with you like a heavy bag, constantly weighing you down and making your muscles ache. But here, in another city she thought she could rebuild herself. There were no horrible promotions here, in Stanford, or so she hoped. She could feel her powers gnawing at her mind and stopping her from sleep, her relief was hearing Stiles' sweet voice on the phone. She wanted to cry every time she thought of him being twenty miles north of her in San Jose. It made her core ache and heart throb.

Lydia had friends. She had her two roommates that were nice enough, they had movie nights every Tuesday and hit the town every Friday and Saturday night despite Lydia's anxiety that she would fail the semester if she wasn't working every single minute of every single day.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Lydia calls out to her roommates.

One of her roommates is a girl, her name is Amelia. Amelia majors in Media studies, she's tall like Malia, her skin bronzed and her hair too dark for her complexion but nevertheless pretty. She also lives with a boy named Conrad. But before anyone could say 'Ooh la la' she had to tell people he was gay. Because he is. He's broad and muscly, light hair but caramel colored skin. He's gorgeous, Lydia often found it sad he was gay because if she ever had the chance she would date him. If she could ever forget about Stiles.

It's Friday and Lydia was itching to get alcohol flowing through her veins. She could feel something crawling up her spine and making its way out her throat and she needed it to stop.

"Yes, I need to be grinding on a boy before I combust!" Conrad calls to her, Lydia laughs and shakes her head. Conrad has the best sense of humor, just below Stiles' of course.

"Too much information, Connie!" Amelia calls back. Lydia drops her pen on the assignment she was working on and stands up from her desk, pushing her chair back. She wanders out to the small hallway and hangs by her door. Amelia comes out of her room and so does Conrad.

"Great, what time?" Lydia asks, she tries to forget about the weird feeling that's making her tense.

"Let's say... in two hours time?" Conrad suggests, Lydia and Amelia nod in agreement.

Then Lydia's heading for the bathroom to shower. She lets the hot water wash off her day. A seminar and a three hour lecture. She washes her hair, ridding it of hairspray and car fums from the city. She sighs as she lets the water trickle down her back. She thinks of Stiles and if he's getting ready for a night out or if he'll be having a quiet one in with Scott. She thinks of what girl he'll be getting off tonight if he does go out. Thinking of Stiles reminds her how he hasn't text her today. She turns the shower off. The shower is her time to think and dwell, and she can't afford to think because it hurts too much.

The two hours it takes Lydia to get ready passes quickly and when she's finished she's impressed. She wears a white floral dress that stops at the top of her thigh, the dress is loose and doesn't hug her curves but allows her cleavage to be seen. She styles it with a small, nude clutch bag and matching shoes. Her makeup bronzing her skin and making her cheekbones stand out. She's about to check if everyone is ready when her phone starts ringing. It's Stiles face-timing her. She sighs, goes to shut her door and swipes to answer it. She props the phone by her mirror on her desk and stands before it as she prepares herself to talk to Stiles.

"Lyds-" He starts when his face appears on her IPhone. He's in a black t-shirt and jeans, he looks like he's about to go out too. "Sorry were you just heading out?"

"Yeah, but I have a few minutes to spare. What's up?" She slides into the chair at her desk so her face is closer to the screen. She tries to look for Stiles' moles or his amber eyes but it's to pixelated. She tries to ignore the wave of disappointment that travels through her body that she won't get too analyse his face for another day.

"I haven't spoke to you in a while." He smiles, he slides in front of the camera, sitting close like she is.

"We texted yesterday." She tells him, although she believes texting isn't the same as talking over the phone. He smiles and shakes his head at her. She suddenly wants to tell him that she misses him, that she thinks she loves him too.

"Texted, not spoke. How was your day?" He asks, Lydia is conscious of the time and doesn't want Amelia to walk in in a short dress and all made up because Stiles may fall for her. She scolds herself for being paranoid.

"Boring and long. Yours?" She answers short and sweet, feeling bad that she can't speak to Stiles for longer like they usually do.

"Interesting and short." He juxtaposes. He smiles like he's joking, Lydia smiles back. "Where are you off too?"

"It's a Friday and we're nineteen. Where'd you think?" He doesn't answer so she answers for him. "Partying, obviously."

" _Obviously._ " He smirks, and Lydia has to literally force her eyes away before she cries or erupts into hysterical laughter because she misses him so much. She breathes in and looks at him again.

"What about you?"

"Same as you. Scotty here is still in mourning over Kira." Stiles lowers his voice, she nods in understanding. Then he says, "Are you in mourning over me?" Her heart pounds in her ears, her mouth goes dry. Of course she is, she's infatuated with the boy. She's in mourning over someone who is still alive. But before she can answer Conrad comes into her room, nodding his head as if to say, 'You ready?'.

"I got to go, but have a good time tonight." She tells him, she's not sure she means it, because having a good time to him might mean sex with a nameless pretty girl.

"You too, stay safe. I love you." He says, she can't say it back because she knows if she admits it there really is no going back. She smiles and blows a kiss then the screen goes black. Lydia draws a deep breath in, he must think there is no admiration for him in her heart. When in reality he is her heart.

She leaves her room, trying to allow her mind to drift to what the night will hold. She tries to decide if she wants to hook up and have heartless sex. It wouldn't be the first time she's done it in hopes of making her feel better. Her heart stops when Stiles texts her a few hours later, _Did I mention how amazing you looked tonight?_ So Lydia decides it then, she needs to occupy the void in her heart that can only be filled by Stiles, she'll hook up with the first man that tries to dance with her because she needs to feel something other than her growing love for Stiles or the feeling of dread knotting in her stomach.

A boy starts dancing with her. She has found her companion.

* * *

The morning crawls to a beginning and the light of dawn starts to leak through her window that was opened a crack in the middle of the night. Her curtains blow as the breeze waltzes through the room making the air more breathable. Lydia drifts awake with the arm of a stranger draped over her body. She shivers and slips out of the bed, making the stranger stir but settle again. Her mouth tastes like stale alcohol and her chest is filled with regret and longing. She only wants Stiles to wake up too.

She slips on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt covering her naked body she so easily wasted lasted night. She wants to hate herself for letting men take advantage of her, but she can't. She can't feel anything but a pang of lust toward Stiles and what they could've had if she had been brave enough to tell him how she felt. But that's not in Lydia's nature to be like that. She hates herself for it.

She walks into the kitchen and drinks some water then sits out on the tiny balcony in the morning light. The air is crisp, the slight wind whipping her hair and making her ears turn red. She watches the group of girls in their ridiculously short party dresses stumble home with their shoes in their hands. She watches the early morning joggers run down the path that lead to the local park. Lydia sighs, her breath clouding in the air as she shivers at the thought of sleeping with that guy last night. A beautiful stranger. But would she do it again? In a heartbeat because she just wants to feel something.

A dull throb spreads behind her eyes from lack of sleep so she wanders back into her room and climbs into the bed. Her skin cool against the boys. When she presses her skin against his body he turns away so Lydia starts to cry. Her tears streak down the side of her face as she lays on her back, they soak the pillow. She knew all she had to do was text Stiles and everything would be sorted, but it wouldn't be. Not unless they were together, as a couple and in presence. She was shaking and crying and sobbing and she couldn't help herself. Salty tears pooling in her ears and hair and her small hand clutched helplessly at her chest as her body was racked with sobs. She considered texting Stiles but didn't know what she'd say.

 _'Oh, I had meaningless sex last night, like I do a lot of nights actually in hopes to get over you xoxo Lydia.'_

Of course she wasn't going to text him.

Then a strong wave of nausea washes over her. It starts at her stomach and rises to her chest, then her throat and lodges there. The unnerving feeling sits in her toes and Lydia wipes away her tears. _Sleep it off_ , she tells herself but it feels like something is trying to claw its way out of her mouth and won't stop until it's free.

She feels as though she's about to scream.


	2. Chapter Two

It's later that day when Lydia really starts to analyse the ache in her throat and the pain behind her eyes. It's after she tells the stranger in her bed to leave in the early hours of the morning because she felt so sure she was going to scream. She doesn't want to ever explain that to someone, she doesn't want it to happen here, in College. Lydia had worked hard to be someone different and now that could change within a day.

Lydia starts to fear the scream being the impending death of Kira. She dares to think, for a split second. What if Kira is out in the desert being slaughtered by the women she sought refuge in? Or what if something animal and inhuman came and attacked her? Lydia shivers, she doesn't like to think of losing anyone else she loves. She's lost so many people, Jackson, Allison and Aiden. Not to mention the way her and her mom have drifted since the first semester. Wouldn't it feel different if it were Kira who was going to die? When she felt the impending death of Allison it felt so heavy on her heart she could tell it was her body already mourning her. This just feels like someone is about to die near by. She decides she will not scream, because once she does Peter Hale gets the satisfaction of ruining her College education as well as her High School education. She will push the feeling down, and compress it and lock it away in the darkest corner of herself.

Her phone buzzes while she's sipping coffee and watching a documentary on 'Selective Breeding'. She expects it to be a text from Stiles, but it's from Malia. They've spoke a few times since leaving but it seems Malia is happy with Derek and hasn't felt the need to look back on her past and friends. It reads, _Guess who's half hour away from Stanford College? Wanna grab some lunch and catch up?_

Lydia smiles instinctively. She hasn't even seen Stiles and Scott since leaving, sure they've skyped and such but she hasn't seen them in the flesh and bone for a quarter of the year. Lydia almost forgot what it's like to hear their voices, or to see a familiar face from home.

She replies, _That sounds great. Let me know when you're here and I'll show you my apartment._

Lydia suddenly forgets about the boy she slept with last night and forgets about the knot in her stomach and the throb in her throat. She sets off to get ready, checking her phone every few minutes to see if Stiles has text her yet. It's 2pm and she wonders if he's still in bed, hungover or if he too is getting ready to go out. She dresses in a blue and pink striped top and tight, skinny jeans with a pair of suede ankle boots. She curls her hair and dabs on lip gloss and mascara. She wants to make Malia believe that she isn't consumed by the heartache of not seeing Stiles in a long time. She wants Malia to believe she's forgotten about every physical and mental scar she has. She wants Malia to believe that she's actually happy here because Lydia isn't so sure she is.

As soon as Lydia sits down to drop a text to Stiles she hears the buzzer ring in the hall of the flat, abandoning her phone at her desk she goes to answer it. It's Malia so she lets her up.

"Hey," She says when she answer the door. Malia wears a denim jacket over her shorts and boots. She looks healthy, her hair slightly bleached from the sun and her skin tanned, she looks happy. Probably more happy than Lydia.

"Come in." Lydia welcomes her, her smile comes naturally and she steps aside to allow her to come through. Lydia wonders why she was headed into Stanford and if she's here for a reason.

"So, how's College life treating you?" Malia asks her as they walk down the hall, Lydia brings her into her room and gestures with her hand.

"It's hard, and requires a lot of energy but it's fun. This is my bedroom." She adds, Malia nods and Lydia leads her to the kitchen. Where a hungover Amelia and Conrad sit and eat lucky charms out of the box.

"Who's the girl?" Conrad asks, his voice is raspy from alcohol and Malia smiles at him.

"Malia, she's one of my closest friends from home." Lydia explains, Malia waves and Conrad and Amelia nod, still too tired and intoxicated from the night before. "Come on, I know an Italian diner a few blocks away."

It doesn't take them long to get there, and they talk non-stop about how their lives are going. Malia has so far taken out a Kanima, a cult of witches and a pack of Wendigo's. Lydia tells her about her Tuesday, Friday and Saturday nights although leaving out what they consist of. Compared to Malia's life Lydia feels like she does nothing, like she's a very boring person with a shit social life. They sit and both order a pasta dish, then Lydia raises the question that's been bugging her.

"So, without sounding rude, why are you here?"

"I was passing," She replies softly, she sips her drink and smiles at Lydia, "Me and Derek were coming out of Berkeley."

"Where _is_ Derek?" Lydia fiddles with a loose thread on her shirt, she knows Malia isn't telling her something but she isn't sure she wants to know what despite her curiosity.

Malia thinks for a moment, "He's coming back later I think he's going to see Scott and Stiles at San Jose."

"Have you seen Scott and Stiles?"

She nods her head. "A few times." Lydia can't help the jealousy that spurs through her chest and travels down to her toes. How have they made time for Malia but not her? "They miss you."

"I miss them." She admits, because she does. Despite the thick layer of love Lydia has for Sties she misses both of them as her friends. She misses familiarity. She fears that Malia can sense her mood, she doesn't want her to think she's getting catty over her two boys. Especially when the girl in front of her dated one of them. After all, they are all a pack.

"Have you spoke to them lately-"

"Did they ask you to come here today?" Lydia sighs. She can't help herself, it's been itching at her for an hour now. As much as she loves Malia the two aren't a 'hang-out' type. The most they ever hung out in High School was to kill the enemy or to help her with math.

"Why would they? Wouldn't they do it themselves?" Malia questions, Lydia almost believes it. She can just see through her acting, she fears that something is wrong, that what she believed about Kira may of come true and Malia is here to break it to her.

"Malia, please tell me the truth. I know they worry but what is there to worry about right now?" She tries to sound casual but her voice comes out shrill. She silently scolds herself for it and tries to loosen her muscles that are rigid.

"Lydia, they worry about you, yes, but-"

"Malia-"

"Fine." She's silent and takes in a deep breath, "They just wanted me to check in on you, okay?"

"But why?" Lydia was panicking slightly now, what if something was happening and they were trying to make Lydia stay out of it?

"You barely talk to them. Not to mention you haven't visited them or Beacon Hills." Malia sighs and Lydia feels bad that she made her confess. After all she's the spy but Scott and Stiles are the culprit.

"It's just- It's different here. People don't recognize me as the girl who constantly goes into fugue states, or who's friends die or leave. Here I'm Lydia Martin, the girl who can solve a linear equation in two seconds."

"I know, that's why I didn't do College. I can't run or hide from what I am, I can only embrace it." She tells Lydia smiling. Lydia smiles back at her realizing that what Malia is saying is true. There's never going to be a moment in time where Lydia won't be a banshee again. She stuck with it, _a baggage._ Unless she accepts it with open arms.

"Do you enjoy what you do with Derek?"

"It can be tough, physically but it's nice to travel. Do you enjoy it here?" She asks, the waitress appears with their food and a refill of their drinks.

"I enjoy the education I get. But socially..." Lydia sucks in a breath and shakes her head. She twirls the pasta on her fork and puts it into her mouth, buying herself time before Malia asks about how lost she feels without Stiles.

"I can smell your lust, and I have my doubts that it's toward me." Malia quirks an eyebrow at the banshee and Lydia immediately flushes, the heat rushes in her ears. Lydia takes a sip of her drink, she hasn't admitted her feelings to herself let alone anyone else.

"It's Stiles," Lydia admits, she blows out a puff of air and takes another bite from her food. Something inside her chest is stirring even speaking his name allowed seems so sacred, like she shouldn't be admitting this.

"Elaborate."

"I think I love him," She admits. It hits her then, she's just confessed what had been bouncing around in her skull for who knows how long. It was something taboo to her because she didn't want to admit it to herself and she just had. It was everything right in the world and everything wrong. A benediction. A malediction. "And, _God,_ I can't stop thinking of him."

"Thank god you admitted it." Malia smiles, like she actually wants Stiles and Lydia to work out despite their past relationship. But Malia always knew Stiles loved Lydia, how horrible, Lydia thought, for your boyfriend to love another girl. "Does he know?"

"No, I wish he did though."

"Tell him, Lydia."

"I will one day," Lydia says, her voice suddenly sounding sad. She smiles however, and puts her fork down and pushes the plate away from her. Malia does the same and they both drink at the same time.

"So, how do you deal with that?"

"Honestly? I have meaningless sex," Lydia laughs at herself, how pathetic she feels now she declared that to someone who thinks highly of her, Malia looks sad that that's how she treats herself so she looks out the window to her side. "And I regret it every time."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"It's my choice. Nothing to feel bad for."

There's an uncomfortable silence between the two. Lydia shivers at the thought of who she slept with last night. How she presses her story into a drunken boys skin and screams at love in their ear. She whispers the name of a boy into a nameless face.

"So, supernaturally how have you been feeling?" She changes the subject completely, which Lydia is thankful for. Although there isn't much relief in talking about the supernatural. She considers talking to Malia about how she's been feeling, she decides she might be able to offer her advice.

"I woke up this morning with this... _ache_ in my throat." Malia blinks at her. "It felt like I was going to scream, Malia."

"Shit, Lydia." She sighs and rubs her temple, Lydia fears she's just caused her unnecessary stress and wishes she hadn't mentioned it.

"It's gone now, though!" She rushes to amend but now she's thinking of it again the dry, dull throb is making a reappearance so she swallows thickly trying to ignore it. She realizes then she's taking a piece of advice from Stiles' handbook, _running away from your problem until it goes away_. What if the only way to get rid of it is to scream?

"You should tell Scott, you know?"

"I don't want him to worry."

"Lydia, we'll always worry about you. We're pack." Malia smiles.

"I know and maybe I will." She sighs and looks out the window and at the passersby. She ponders on how it had to be her life that was so complicated and how that man walking outside with the retro sunglasses probably doesn't have a care in the world. Why are certain people entrusted with saving humanity than others?

"What do you think it is?"

"I'm scared it's Kira. None of us have even heard from her since _forever._ " Lydia sighs. Malia nods but doesn't say anything like she isn't sure what to say without sounding like an optimist or a pessimist.

"I'm sure she's fine. It might just be someone in that retirement home a couple blocks away, or a suicide."

"If it's a suicide then I want to stop it."

"What I'm saying is that I doubt it's supernatural. Not here anyway, nothing happens in San Fran." Malia corrects herself, her stare intense compared to Lydia's. Lydia doesn't believe her but neither does she have the energy to argue against it. So she allows it.

"Yeah, you could be right." She becomes aware of the fact how better she might feel if she did believe it, or if she even considered it. But Lydia knew what it felt like to have the prickly feeling of fear of something supernatural a few steps behind her, and she didn't doubt that this is a supernatural crisis they may be dealing with. So her and Malia pay then leave, after that Lydia shows campus to Malia. She has a wave of nostalgia at that point, when she realizes she's never shown her campus to anyone because no-ones visited. It's then when she realizes how her and Allison can never be College students together.

"So, where are you off to after this?" Lydia asks her as they wait by the Golden Gate Bridge where Derek promised to pick Malia up. The breeze tickles Lydia's skin, it feels nice to be comfortable with someone who knows all her secrets. She's never felt this safe with Amelia or Conrad.

"We're going to Sacramento, according to Derek there's an Abaasy in town."

"Abaasy?"

"Some demonic creature that likes to kill people, basically." Lydia can't help the small giggle that comes from her mouth, taking out of context Lydia finds it funny that two almost-adults are talking about the supernatural.

"Is it dangerous?"

"We're all dangerous, Lydia." Malia turns to her then and Lydia understands. Nothing supernatural is safe, their pack may have good intentions but that doesn't mean every Werewolf and Banshee has good intentions.

"Stay safe, then." Lydia smiles at her. Sometimes she fears that Malia is all she really has left, girlfriend wise. Kira's gone. Allison's gone. Hayden's still in school. It's like everything she loves turns to dust around her. It takes another few minutes for Derek to show, they travel in a black Toyota Hybrid with blackened out windows. Lydia doesn't see Derek's face which she's secretly disappointed with but she waves them off after hugging Malia goodbye.

She speculates when the when the next time she'll see Malia, or when she see's someone from home. _Home._ It seems like a thousand miles away yet she can still smell, taste and hear her home town as if she were there. Her heart becomes heavy at the thought of it, there really was no escaping her past. She takes a slow walk back to her place, taking the long routes and assimilating in the orange sky as the evening draws into night time. The lights dance against the sky and Lydia reminds herself of how much she loves it here, how she doesn't miss home and how she's not Lydia Banshee Martin instead she Lydia Camille-Grace Martin the girl who majors in math. She's happy here. No death, no tragedy and no scars. No _Stiles._

But how is it her heart collapses every time she thinks of him?

Lydia wishes she was spontaneous in that moment, wish she'd just catch a bus to San Jose and surprise Scott and Stiles. Or she wishes she could allow her dream of Stanford to slip through her fingers and go to San Jose State University instead. But she can't. She's tied to her dream she's had since _forever._ She can't even let go of her dream for the boy she claims to love. Or can she?

It takes Lydia a while to realize she's completely detoured from her way home, so she turns around and begins to walk the way she knows, trying to block her mind from thinking of Stiles.

Then it feels like icy hands running up her spine and onto her neck, then the fingers are teasing her neck. Except there is no hand or fingers. This is all internal. The ache returns but this time it's so painful Lydia can't swallow it down and ignore it, she isn't so sure she won't scream this time. She tries to think of the best place to go. She's twenty minutes away from her apartment and in the middle of a bustling street. There's no way in hell she's going to allow herself to scream in front of all these people, she'll be done for good then. She'll be locked way in Eichen for the rest of her life, no degree, no pack, no Stiles. She spots a clearing up ahead, about a seven minute journey, if she makes it there she can scream out in the wilderness. Barely anyone would hear her then.

She walks determinedly through the crowd of people, she mutters 'Sorry' as she passes and occasionally knocks peoples shoulders but she doesn't care. She feels like she's going to wrench or heave or gag and all she can think about is what it signifies. _Someones going to die._ What if it's Stiles? What if all this time it was Stiles. But no, no Derek was with him today. Her mind's racing. She neared the clearing, the tall dark trees loomed over her and Lydia almost felt intimidated. She reached the muddy ground and the first line of trees, she looked back, still cars passed and people strode by, there was no way she wasn't going to be heard. So she ran.

Her feet kissed the muddy, uneven ground as something dared to escape her throat. _Not here, not here,_ she thought, _at least not yet._ She was like an eagle soaring across indigo skies and a herd of cheetahs racing through verdant meadows and she couldn't stop her legs now. The wind stung her skin and eyes but still she ran, until she collapsed because her body couldn't do it anymore. Her hair that was now matted and wind-swept fell around her face just as her knees skidded against the ground. The mud made her wet and cold, the brown staining the denim of her jeans. She was crying now, tears making her cheeks colder and her sobs echoing throughout the greenery.

She looked up at the green branches that were stopping the leaks of sunlight from passing, almost like she was looking to God, "Please." She whispered, she doesn't want this anymore, but she opened her mouth and it was too late. She screams loud and clear into the dark abyss of the forest.


	3. Chapter Three

**I hope those reading still likes it! Review what you thought :)**

* * *

It's one of those sounds that makes her own ears ring, like a buzzing hive of bees that are trapped inside her own head, along with the voices. The whispers start as soon as she's emptied her throat of any voice she has. They're incoherent but yet they're angry, almost like they're scolding Lydia for screaming, like she should've been able to control it. She tries to block her ears but it's useless the sound is coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It's internal. It's part of her, part of being a banshee. The wailing woman.

She sinks farther into the ground, the mud soaking through her jeans (which she spent a lot of money buying), making her knees freeze at the joint. She allows herself to cry because everything she spent four months denying has just came and bit her in the ass. There's no going back now, just like Beacon Hills, San Francisco is tainted with the supernatural and how she's managed to fuck her life up once again.

She isn't sure how long she stays there, knees digging into the ground and body shaking from the cold but all she knows is that she's hearing her name in the voice of someone she has missed so deeply that her heart throbs when she hears him, Scott.

"Lydia!"

She turns her head and tries to smile at the two approaching figures, but her face is frozen from the cold and hurts to move. She squints her eyes to allow them to focus in the dark, she sees Scott in a red Henley shirt with his Ralph Lauren jacket over it, washed out jeans and combat boots come skidding to a stop when he sees her; Her hair tangled, her lips blue.

"Jesus, you must be freezing," He mutters, he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and drapes it around Lydia's trembling body. Her eyes frantically search for Stiles. She needs to see him, needs him to tell her everything will be alright.

"Oh my god- Lyds-" Stiles' words tumbles over each other as he approaches at a steady jog, air puffing from his mouth and forming clouds in the air. He wears a red flannel, black jeans and sneakers. Her lovely, classic Stiles. Not even the city of San Jose could change him.

"Stiles." She manages to croak. This isn't how she imagined their first meeting to be after such a long time but she's so happy to see him she can't stop herself from crying. She wants to move, wrap her arms around him but she's frozen into the ground and is scared if she does move her body will crumble.

"We need to get her warm," Scott says, Stiles is already ripping his flannel off in order to offer more warmth to Lydia, she gets a whiff of him then. He smells clean, like aftershave and candy and _home._ She cries a little harder, a wave of homesickness washing over her. Although she doesn't know it's Beacon Hills she's homesick about. "Stiles, can you carry her back to the car?"

She's aware of someones arms scooping her up and hearing a soft grunt when she rises. Stiles. She drapes an arm over his chest, trying to will her hand to grip onto his neck but every inch of her body is trembling with the cold and moving actually hurts. She isn't sure if it's the cold that makes her fall asleep or the energy she wasted on screaming but she rocks like a baby and drifts away.

* * *

It's that same damn smell she wakes up too, just like the one when she fell asleep. Her body is fuzzy and warm and she's sleeping in the comfiest bed she has done in a while now. She darts awake suddenly, her heart pounding as she isn't aware of her surroundings, she fears for a moment she's in danger.

"Whoa, you're okay, Lydia." She looks to her left, scanning the room. There was a desk in the corner, and to the left a shelf full with CD's and DVD's and books. Next to the door there's a five drawer set and a picture frame on top. Then Stiles. At her side, calming her down from whatever terror she had flowing through her blood now goes. She relaxes.

"Stiles," She begins but she doesn't know where to start. She screamed, she felt a death come and hit her. There's no denying it or making up excuses. Someone she knows or someone in close proximity will die, she just hopes it isn't painful. Instead what she says is pathetic, "I've missed you."

"Me too." He smiles. He sits over her, his hair unevenly spiked and his clothes different to what he was wearing when him and Scott rescued Lydia. She sits up with ease, although her knees sting and then she notices that she's been changed. She wears a long blue t-shirt that stops midway thigh. Something inside her stirs at the fact Stiles saw her half-naked, in a completely weird way.

His gaze is intense on hers, so she licks her lips and looks away. Seeing his features up close again, his dark hair, long eyelashes, constellation of moles. It brings to many feelings back to her. All those time in his room studying, all those long drives in his jeep, making food with one another. She shivers.

"How long was out for?"

"A few hours."

"How long is that exactly?"

"Uh," He looks at his phone which lies on his bed, she notices how his lock screen is of him and Scott, she almost feels jealous she's not on there, "Five hours?"

"Five hours!"

"Lydia, calm down. I called Amelia." He tells her, he places a soothing hand on her knee, the warmth he gives spreads all the way to her toes. She looks at his lips, sees the soft pink he has to offer so she blinks her eyes away in shame. Then Scott walks in, he only has a pair of grey loungers on which allows his torso to be seen. Which is impressive and wonders why Kira would leave him for the skin-walkers.

"You're awake."

"So are you," She smirks. She realizes how much she's missed this, being with the two and bantering with them.

"C'mere." Scott says a big smile on his face. He walks over to the bed Lydia sits on with Stiles and he crushes her with a big bear hug, she has to blink back tears when he does so. Such a simple touch but a complex meaning.

"He gets a hug but I don't?" Stiles huffs, only half-joking she thinks. "Well that's _rude_."

Lydia pulls back from Scott then throws her arms around Stiles. She hears him laugh into her neck, the kind of laugh that takes her back because it's so old and familiar yet beautiful. His embrace is warm, and his big, strong arms seem very protective when wrapped around her frail body. The world around her melts away as she squeezes him back, not wanting the moment to end. She had craved this for so long and she isn't sure she has it in her to pull back. But she does. Begrudgingly, her hands loosen from his body and they draw back. They share a look of knowing, like they both know how much they've missed one another and how much they've craved the others touch.

"Our reunion aside," Scott says as he places himself on the bed, Lydia budges up so there's room, her knee touches Stiles' leg. "You screamed, Lydia."

"I'm sure it's nothing," She offers them a smile, but she's lying and if anyone can figure that out it's Scott and Stiles. "There's a local retirement nearby me, it's probably that."

Scott and Stiles exchange a look, Lydia frowns at them. They're hiding something.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me it's Scott's research." Stiles raises his eyebrows so she looks the opposite way and stares at Scott.

"There has been unusual sightings..." Scott says his face knotting, Lydia notices how tense he looks and that it's taking a lot in him to figure this out, to form words and speak them.

"Of what?"

"A lady."

"Someone call the fucking police." Lydia sighs as she flops back on the bed, the mattress making a soft impact on her back. She feels so warm and fuzzy again she could sleep. She's content here, the warmth, the sound of Stiles breathing, it's relaxing.

"Think we've tried that." Stiles chuckles.

"The thing is," Scott breathes in deeply so Lydia raises an eyebrow at him, "People who have been walking that route where she's spotted have gone missing."

"So what're you thinking?" She asks him. She tries to squash the fear and panic into a dark corner of her mind but she can't help the way her stomach stirs or the way her palms sweat. She raises herself on her elbows so she can see Scott and Stiles better.

"We aren't sure, hopefully nothing supernatural. Maybe she kidnaps and murders people, hell anything is going to be awful." Scott sighs and he rubs his forehead. Lydia notices that same crease of concentration in his forehead that he fashioned all throughout high school, it went towards the end, when they were moving away but now it's returned and she can't help but feel bad.

"Saying that, you screamed, Lydia. It probably _is_ supernatural and we're trying to fool ourselves." Stiles remarks, Lydia almost slaps him because he says the word 'supernatural' so lightheartedly, like it doesn't mean nothing and wouldn't completely change their world. She also hates his pessimism.

"I screamed when-" She pauses in thought, when has she screamed and it hasn't been supernatural? "My point is, let's _not_ jump to the conclusion that it's supernatural all because I screamed."

"I think we should still keep our eyes open for news, and Lydia if you feel anything you let us know straight away." Scott says, Lydia nods but can't help when she instinctively looks at Stiles because after all he's her tether. She knows that if she had a crisis, or was terrified out of her mind she would call Stiles in a heartbeat. He looks at back at her, and it's something about the dark gaze of his eyes that stirs something and makes her chest flutter. Like maybe he see's her the same.

"Of course," She says, her eyes trained on Stiles, she physically forces herself to look away, she's scared she blushes. "What time is it anyway?"

"About 10:30am," Scott tells her, shrugging. Lydia immediately panics, she hasn't been back to her apartment and at this rate she's going to miss a lecture.

"10:30? Stilinski you told me I was out for five hours! I need to leave-" She rushes, she gets up off the bed and tries to head to the door but Stiles' long fingers wrap around her small wrists, stopping her. She's slightly taller than him when he's still sat and that makes her more confident.

"Slow down, you can miss one lecture." He tells her, but if Lydia misses just one day she falls behind, her degree races ahead of her even more. Lydia rolls her eyes, suddenly conscious of how short the t-shirt she's wearing is as his eyes dance over her.

"No, _I can't._ " She almost cries, she's about to break loose of Stiles' grip when he stands up in front of her. It's like he never stops growing, he towers over her, damn him for being 5 foot, 11 inches.

"I emailed your lecturers, they'll email you what you missed." Stiles tries to reassure her, but the way he has both her wrists grasped in one hand and he's gazing at her like she really is something extraordinary makes her slowly sink down on the bed.

"We can just catch up today, we haven't spoke in forever. I was starting to think you'd died." Stiles says. She sees the warmth of his features and she just _melts_.

"No can do, I have a lecture in half hour." Scott sighs, Lydia deflates slightly at the fact she won't properly speak to Scott today but also something about the fact she has Stiles to herself excites her. She tries to not let that show.

"Maybe when you get back, then?"

"It's a date." Scott smiles and kisses her forehead then leaves the room, closing the door behind him. The silence between Lydia and Stiles is calming, but Lydia feels like there's so much still to say, yet she doesn't know how.

"Let's go for a coffee, I'm in desperate need of caffeine." Stiles says, Lydia smiles in relief that they can talk about everything and nothing at the same time. And she gets Stiles to herself for a few hours.

* * *

"Why doesn't your order surprise me?" Stiles teases as they sit down in a booth near the window, Lydia buys an iced, sugar-free, vanilla with soy milk coffee. Okay, maybe it is an awkward thing to ask for but she can't help herself, it's divine.

"At least I'm not _boring_."

Stiles smiles at her, their eyes locking for a beat too long, so she looks away and sips her drink. She tries to prepare herself for what the conversation might have to offer, but she's afraid she'll say something she'll regret or hear something she doesn't want to hear. She feels her stomach churn at the thought of talking about her being a banshee, or Kira being with the skin-walkers, or Malia. She decides to avoid that conversation as much as possible, and pushes the thought away.

"So, tell me, how is Stanford?"

"The only reason I'm keeping at it is because I want that Fields Medal, _so bad._ " She expresses, she realizes how she hasn't spoke about her ambitions to win the Fields Medal since being at College. Stiles smiles at her, again, that _damn_ smile that makes her melt inside. She wonders if when she smiles at Stiles he feels like jelly inside or if he contemplates just lounging at her and smashes those pink, soft lips against hers and-

"And when you do get that Fields medal-"

"You'll be making some sarcastic comment?" She jokes.

" _Ha, ha._ I'll be stood there, watching you with the biggest smile on my face," He says and something inside her chest flutters, like her heart is trying to grow wings to fly to him, "And I'll be so freaking proud of you."

"Stiles," She manages, her mouth dry and his eyes burn into hers. That's the only person she truly wants by her side after all of this.

"And when I become the town Sheriff, I expect _you_ to be sat there with a smile on _your_ face." Stiles easily lightens the mood, but they both know it's true. She sips her drink, a smirk on her face. She hopes by then she won't be sleeping with random guys to forget him, she just wants him.

"You know I'll be there." Lydia smiles, but then she has a thought, what happens if he meets someone during police training? Or what if he already has a girl?

"Lydia, are you okay?" Stiles asks, he leans over the table so his hands are closer to her, her face must of slacked or gave the wrong impression. She nods, plastering a smile on her face.

"Of course I am," She says, "So, have you got, like, a thousand girls queuing up outside your door?"

"No," He scoffs, "More like a _million._ "

Lydia's silent for a moment too long before realizing he was joking, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"No, Lyds, I don't even have one girl after me let alone a million." He jokes, although she senses he's insecure about it. She doesn't understand why, though. How hasn't he had a million girlfriends already?

"You turn more heads than you think." She says quietly, not quite wanting him to hear but hoping he does.

"Do I turn your head?"

Her heart stops, "I-" But what does she have to say? Now isn't the best time to confess her love to him but she also doesn't want him to think that he means nothing more to her than a best friend.

"Because I don't give a damn about the rest." He tells her with such intensity she feels her heart skip a beat.

She risks it, looks down at his lips and she wishes she didn't because it makes everything burst. Like everything in her body is so sure of this, of him and it's trying to tell her to quit stalling with him. She thinks he reads her thoughts. She meets his eyes again, they're warm and heavenly and it's like being home.

"Anyway, what about you? Have you got one thousand boys queuing up outside your door?"

She finds some relief that the topic has switched from them to just her, but also she doesn't have the heart to tell him how she's slept with so many different guys. Although it's justified because she's trying to forget about Stiles, the boy with the sarcastic remarks and the cheesy lines.

"Like you wouldn't believe," She banters, but she even sounds off to herself and she can guarantee Stiles senses that something is wrong. She wants to bury her head in her hands.

"Is everything alright?"

 _No, of course not you idiot, I love you!_ That's what she wants to say, she just wants him to know she feels, she wants her emotions to be naked and raw and free because he deserves to know.

She considers it, telling him she loves him. She considers telling him about the guy she slept with a couple nights ago, but how would that make him feel? Or does he deserve to know that she wants to feel something but the only person who can fulfill that is him?

"Lydia-"

"I'm lost, Stiles." She says quietly, his eyes darken slightly, maybe in guilt that she's been feeling this way and he didn't know.

"Lost?"

"I just- I feel so alone sometimes," She sighs, she runs a hand across her brow and ponders telling him about how she's so alone she just fucks random guys, "Everyone has someone, you have Scott. Malia has Derek. Kira has the skin-walkers. Who do I have?"

"Me, you have me." Stiles tells her, he doesn't miss a beat when the words fall from her mouth. It's almost comforting but she knows she doesn't have him completely, and she won't until he knows how she feels.

"I have nameless faces of guys I pick up at parties." She whispers, because it's true and she has to say it aloud to him in case her heart swallows her whole. She wants him to hug her, to kiss her forehead like he always does and tell her everything will be alright. She wants him to tell her that he loves her so she can say it back and mean it this time. She wants so many things but instead she gets a sad look from Stiles, his eyes droop and his mouth parts like he wants to pick Lydia's heart up from the dirt and care for it. But she's broken.

"Lydia-"

"Don't," She starts, she realizes that telling him was a big mistake and she doesn't want comfort she just wants to feel something. "Forget I said anything, really."

"But Lydia, you shouldn't be treating yourself that way if you feel alone."

"Stiles, I didn't see you for four months, and you sent Malia to check up on me. Do you think that makes me feel _overwhelmed_ with love?"

Stiles is silent but he stares at her, not like he's mad at her or upset but like he's absolutely in love. But she's hurt. Her heart hurts and so does her mind.

"I wish I knew that that was how you were feeling," Stiles tells her, softly, "Never feel unwelcome to come and visit, and text me when you're free and I'll be there in a heartbeat."

"Okay," Is all she can manage, it's barely audible and comes put as a croak but Stiles understands that that 'okay' doesn't just mean _okay_ it means _Thanks for reminding me that I need you and you need me too._

* * *

Her and Stiles stay out for a few more hours, they catch up, they reminisce and they talk about everything but their love for one another. Stiles and Scott also take her back to her apartment, and they sit and chat for a while until the evening draws into night and Scott suggests they go home.

"Lydia, before we go just, keep your eyes open, yeah? In case that woman who's been spotted is supernatural." Scott says, his hand firmly on her arm, he squeezes gently and the warmth spreads through Lydia's body.

"Will do," She says, she can feel tears sting in her eyes but she refuses to cry, she promises she'll see them again within the week.

"Not that I don't think you'll shatter their skull given the chance." Scott winks at her.

Lydia gives him a rewarding smile and sticks her hip out, "Oh, you know it."

"I'll see you soon." Scott says, then he envelopes her in a hug for the second time that day. His arms are warm which reminds her of home, then he presses a quick kiss to her forehead and draws back. "I'll wait in the jeep."

It's painfully obvious Lydia must smell of lust and how he left so Lydia and Stiles could have a private goodbye. She doesn't know how she'll do this without crying, even though he's only around the corner.

"I'll call you later," Stiles says, Lydia nods and takes a step closer his hand cups the back of her neck, it's warm and fuzzy. "I love you."

 _I love you too._ Her mouth can't form the words, and it's like he knows. He knows she loves him but he accepts she can't say it because everything she loves turns to shit. "I know you do."

He hugs her then, his arms wrap around her so tightly it's like she can't breathe, but it's okay. It's the best suffocation of all because it's Stiles and his love for her. She feels the warmth he brings spread to her toes and feels her heart lift with it. She pulls back, her arms loose around his neck.

"Stay safe." He whispers, his breath tickles her skin and she nods, forces her tears to go away.

"And you."

Then she gently presses her lips against his, it's not the kiss she needs with him. She needs desperation and passion but for now she goes for a thank you kiss. Thanking him for being there for her today and last night. He pulls away from her first and she immediately feels embarrassed that she even kissed him in the first place. They stay like that for a while, not talking but just looking at one another. She memorizes his face in case it's another four months until she see's him again and let's him go.

She watches him leave and all she can feel stir deeply inside her is the desperation she feels to stay close to him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Please read, favorite, follow and review- it really makes my day :) Also I'll be updating every three days, so enjoy.**

* * *

She's aware she's running and at that she is out of breath and getting tired very easily.

She's in the woods back in Beacon Hills. The tall, dark trees loom over her and there's the faint _hoot_ of an owl from up above. And it's night time. It's frosty cold and she can feel her sensitive skin begin to sting from the bitter air.

The wind nips at her face and she feels like her face might start wasting away if she's outside for too long. She looks down at herself whilst running, she's in a pair of white faintly pink spotted pajama shorts and matching vest that doesn't offer her much protection from the cold. The pajama set is dirty and wet from the drizzle.

She notices she's barefoot, her feet covered in the soggy mud, saturated leaves cling to her feet and wedge in between the gap in her toes. It hits her then at how cold her feet are. She feels the piercing chill travel from her toes, numbing them, up to her chest until her teeth are chattering with it. She wonders how she got in this mess.

The rain falls down harder and it feels like someone is pricking a needle over and over on Lydia's face. But still she runs. Clouds form from her mouth as she puffs out air; she may be supernatural but she doesn't have the same abilities as Scott. Her lungs scream out for air as her side begins to cramp. Her heart races faster than her mind; every bone, vein and muscle inside her is screaming for her to _stop._ But she doesn't. More like she _can't._ Her legs are going faster than her body can carry herself and before long she is going to trip over her own feet. Her legs burn with every step, despite this she doesn't come to a halt. It's like she has no control over her body yet her mind is telling her she isn't running fast enough.

A shot of pain runs from her left foot up to her thigh.

Her foot is sickly red, she must of nicked it on glass.

She's conscious of the dark now, the only thing her eyes are registering are the branches that seem to get in her way and the moonlight giving off an eerie glow in the clearing. It makes her blood run cold. She notices something in the distance, an orange glow like fire. _Fire._ She almost cries with relief, if there's fire then there is help and warmth. She so badly wants to be warm. So she runs for it, even faster than she has been and holds out for it like a lifeline. It feels like she runs forever but gradually she gets there. A spec turns to a large blob. She almost cries when she realizes that what she saw wasn't a fire but a streetlight, deserted in the middle of nowhere.

The light doesn't offer her hope, it feels her with dread.

Then she hears a voice as she slows down from her run and comes to a stop, the wave of nostalgia hits her hard in the heart and she stumbles back.

 _"I'm here to save my best friend."_

Lydia whips her head around, trying to track where the source of sound came from but everywhere is just blank empty space.

 _"I came to save mine."_ Scott! Scott's here, of course he is, he would always find Lydia. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and allows herself to follow the source.

 _"I just didn't feel like doing any homework."_ Lydia identifies that as Issac's voice, only a little different from what she remembers.

She opens her eyes now, she finds herself to have moved a few steps but still by the street light, except now her surroundings have changed. A large iron gate towers above her, spikes shooting towards the sky and the words _Oak Creek_ perfectly engraved in the metal, like a sign. She knows where she's too, and she has a feeling about what's going to happen.

She closes her eyes again, then a deep breath, and opens them.

She stands on the outlines and watches Scott, Stiles, Allison, Kira and Issac all huddle together. Stiles' face is strangely pale and his eyes are red, it must be when he was fighting off void. She sinks to the ground and shuts her eyes, she doesn't want to see this. Allison alive, so desperately trying to save her best friend who didn't need saving, then her life was snatched away from her.

She cries, her tears stinging her skin as her knees dig into the mud. She stays like that for a while, until the chaos ensues and suddenly she can't keep her eyes shut.

 _"Allison!"_ She see's a hurt Scott run to Allison, who's injured and dying. Lydia cries harder, she saw her dead body after but never what she looked like when her breath was leaving her lungs. When Scott lost his one love. When Lydia lost her best friend.

 _"Did you find her? Is she safe? Is Lydia okay?"_ Allison's words fall from her mouth in helpless breaths and Lydia wonders how Scott ever got over that. He cradles her now, as she lies limp in his arms, tears falling from her eyes.

 _"She's okay,"_ Lydia almost wants to yell at Allison for using her breath on her, what if she lived if she hadn't wasted her energy? Scott's hand takes hers, and he stares at in concentration. _"I can't, I can't take your pain..."_

 _"That's because it doesn't hurt."_ Allison's words stings her ears and Lydia cries out in grief, she misses her so much and now, plastered in her memory is her death.

 _"No."_

 _"It's okay."_ Lydia can see her attempt a smile, but it's watery and sad. Lydia feels like she's been punched in the gut, all the breath leaving her lungs as she screams out for Allison. But it's useless, she's screaming to no-one but herself. How, Allison, is that okay?

 _"Allison."_ He's sobbing now, tears running down his face that's gone pale, eyes wide in fear.

 _"It's okay, it's okay,"_ But even Allison sounds unsure, how is it okay that a young girl has her life taken away from her? Why Allison? _"It's okay. It's perfect. I'm in the arms of my first love, The first person I ever loved, The person I'll always love. I love you. Scott- Scott McCall."_

Lydia goes boneless, all she cared about was that Scott heard her confession before it was too late. She didn't think of Issac, or any boy she'd ever left behind, she thought of Scott.

It clicks that Scott would've heard her heart slow down, until she was dead. _"Don't, please, don't. Allison!"_

She refuses to see it, the life leave Allison's eyes, she refuses to hear the last words of Allison Argent. Her best friend. Her sister. She screams and screams, desperate to erase the images and the rushed breath of Allison.

She pulls at her hair, she sticks her fingers in her ears, all she knows is that she wants out of this. Whatever _this_ is. Her heart bleeds like Allison punctured stomach. She screams and screams. She doesn't remember what happens next.

* * *

She wakes with a start, freezing cold. She's in her room, not wrapped in sheets and wearing the two piece set she was wearing when she saw Allison die. Which finally registers was a dream. But why would she dream of Allison dying all this time after her death? Lydia gets up out of her bed, her phone reads 03:07AM. She just wants Stiles.

Her body shakes in fear and trauma at what her own mind just formed, if not alarmed. She had watched Allison die for the first time, and felt it for the second. She feels numb, devoid of any emotion. Accept the great ache she feels in her chest when she thinks of Stiles. She thinks of the way he would hold her, hug her, kiss her and tell her that everything will be okay. She begins to cry, her head spinning with raw emotion and fatigue. She just wants to sleep. But not here. Not alone.

She makes her way across her room, grabs her phone and slips off into the dawn of the morning. It's only when she's outside she realizes she has no shoes on, she curses herself. She see's a gash on her foot, just like what she remembered seeing in her dream. Had she sleep-walked?

There is almost completely no traffic at this time, a few morning joggers but they don't take much notice of her, they're too focused on their breathing techniques.

She walks so far, hauls a cab after what feels like twenty minutes, and hops in and directs them to Scott and Stiles' apartment blocks. She shivers, her feet cracked and splintered. The driver gives her a weird look, but she just offers him her most rewarding smile. She must look tired, wrecked even. She saw a vivid, brutal dream version of Allison's death where she had to feel her die again. She heard her die.

The cab arrives there in twenty minutes, and when she tells him she has no money he allows it. He probably thinks she's insane and feels sorry for her. She rushes up to their door and knocks, over and over as loud as her weak hand will let her.

The sun hasn't rose yet and the chill of the breeze makes her skin pimple and her teeth chatter.

A sleepy Stiles answers the door. His dark hair is ruffled and piles onto one side of his head, his whiskey colored eyes are hazy, tired. Yet again, because of her. His lips puckered from sleep and he's dressed only in a pair of plaid boxers. Her lungs run out of air. His chest is broad planes of muscle, lifting his pecks and shaping around his biceps. He's broader than she thought, veins popping out in the right places and when her eyes flit down she see's his happy trail, fluffy dark hair running downward to his beautiful 'V-Line'. She draws in a deep breath.

"Lydia?"

"I had a nightmare." She whispers pathetically, her chest is tightening, possibly at the thought of seeing Stiles like this and also because she's drained physically and emotionally.

"C'mere." He says softly, he holds out a hand and she slowly closes the space between them and he wraps her up nice and warm in his arms, she allows herself to melt into him. His chest is warm and makes her feel lightly buzzed inside, how is it possible for him to not know that she doesn't love him? She went to his apartment out of comfort after a nightmare and does he really have to hear her say those three damned words?

He shuts the door behind her and quietly brings her into his room, she shivers at the loss of contact. She needs him, needs his warmth like he's the one that has provided her energy for this long. She sits on his bed, and he rummages around in a drawer for something, his back muscles flexing and making her stomach contract. She looks away and hopes she doesn't blush.

"Here," He pads over to her, his feet slapping against the floor, and hands her a grey sweater. She tries to smile at him, and she puts it on over her clothes. She feels herself begin to warm up slightly, but still her bones are chilled. As well as her heart. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It was Allison," She begins, Stiles' eyes widen and something about his manners stiffen. "I relived her death."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw her die, and felt it too. Just like I had done when she did die." He pulls back his bed sheets for her to get in, he eases himself in too and she's enveloped in warmth. She can tell he's turning it over in his mind, maybe he's thinking that this right now is also a dream.

"Lyds," He sighs, half pitiful and half worried. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

She shakes her head, "Do you think it's a warning?"

He looks at her, his eyes sharing a look of worry without having to exchange words. "I hope not."

"Maybe this woman, who's been sighted, is supernatural. Maybe that's why I had that dream."

"I thought we'd get away from this since we moved." Stiles sighs, Lydia nods and feels the irresistible urge to touch him. To caress his face, or trace her fingers along those lips. She thinks he senses it, because he leans in ever so slightly, she can feel his breath tickle her face.

"I don't want this anymore," She whispers, she can feel sleep tugging at her. She isn't sure she's talking about being a banshee or talking about being just friends with Stiles. Being just friends with him means no stolen kisses, no intense eye contact and no whatever they're doing right now.

"Me neither." Her eyes dart to his, she turns it over in her mind. Is he talking about her too?

"Stiles," She starts, she wets her lips slightly and feels her mouth go dry. It's now or never with how she feels, she's going to need him now more than ever and if anything happens to them here she wants him to know the truth. "I think I'm in love with you." It's a whisper but nevertheless she says it like a prayer.

"Lydia," His voice gentle. His eyes search deep into hers and it's so intense yet caring she thinks she's going to cry. She feels exposed and raw but can't help the butterflies that flutter against her chest. She doesn't know what she expects him to say, or what she wants to happen next. But she needs this, she needs them. "You know I love you."

She feels jelly-kneed. It wasn't like she didn't know he loved her, but hearing it aloud again made her feel hopeful. "I don't deserve you," She whispers, because it's true. She doesn't know if she wants a relationship, not sure it's appropriate right now or if it'll work but yet she told him how she felt. She made him hopeful when he was hopeless on their love, so what was she doing? She said that and what if she doesn't believe that in the morning?

"Shh, Lydia, you deserve the world. More like I don't deserve you." It's cheesy and sloppy but Lydia can't help the way everything inside her is trembling.

"No, you deserve better," She says her voice still a whisper, "You deserve someone who isn't afraid to love you."

"I'll wait for you." It's like he reads her thoughts, like he knows she's wary of a relationship and is too afraid to love because everyone she loves she loses. Like a curse.

"What if you're waiting forever?"

He gazes at her with such wonder her insides melt, like she's the only thing in the world worth looking at. She's conscious of everything in this moment, how hazy or bright her eyes look. How messy her hair is. How pale she must look in the dim light. She thinks she must look broken, because she is. She's brokenhearted because of everyone she has ever lost yet the frail pieces she still has are slowly drifting together all because of Stiles. She feels hopeful somewhere deep in her chest, like if her and Stiles kept at this it would work. She feels an immense craving for him rush through her body and curl around her spine.

"Forever is what you're worth." He tells her, his voice sweet. It takes her back to junior year of high school when his hair was a buzz cut, pumped up on adderall and eyes big and curious. She feels so exposed right now. He knows how she feels, there's no going back and no hiding her emotions.

She sees him wet his lips, she instinctively does the same.

Their kiss is hesitant, but when their lips finally touch, fireworks explode behind her eyes. She's exhausted but feels alive when he touches her. His warm hands electrify her cold waist and she allows herself to melt into him. They know this isn't going anywhere but they need this, a physical touch of affection. His lips move in sync against hers and he tastes like mint, she decides that is now her favorite taste.

Before their tongues touch he pulls away from her. His freckles and moles are illuminated in the dull light, golden specks flicker through the whiskey of his eyes. He smiles, kisses her nose which makes everything inside her flutter. Settling next to her, and wrapping his arms around her makes her feel so safe, secure and loved it feels dream-like.

She drifts like that for a while, in his arms and feeling him breathe on her neck and taking it in like something holy. She floats away in a light sleep and when she feels Stiles get up to leave he presses a kiss to her temple. She doesn't try to control the small, shy grin that curls onto her face. No, they aren't official but they're something.


	5. Chapter Five

She wakes up alone in Scott and Stiles' apartment. All she has on is her flimsy pajama set and that jumper Stiles gave her, she doesn't even have shoes. She sighs and rolls over, her cloudy mind trying to form what happened in the last few hours. She had a nightmare of Allison's death, she came to Stiles, she told him she _thought_ she loved him and then they kissed. Why didn't she just tell him she _did_ love him? All she has done is make things harder for herself and now she has to actually face telling him she loves him for sure.

She rubs at her eyes.

Allison.

She shivers at the thought of her dying, bleeding, gasping for breath as Scott hopelessly held her. She'd pictured what had happened before in the first few lonely nights of grief but then she'd stopped, built a wall up in her head where she was and where Allison's death was. She'd go insane otherwise. But seeing what really happened, how raw and bloody and unprepared Allison was made her eyes open about the whole situation.

She allows herself to cry a bit, in the comfort of Stiles' sheets that smell so distinctly of his aftershave and of home after all these months. She realizes how she kept everything she was feeling about her dream in last night so she allows herself this moment. She cries and cries until there isn't anything else to cry about, she allows her cheeks to dry and Stiles' pillow case to dampen with her salty tears. Then she draws in a deep breath and gets out of his bed.

It's when she kicks off the sheets she sees the blood, she panics at first, afraid this is a 'woman issue' but weirdly relaxes when she finds it is only from her foot that she cut. She'd forgot about it when she saw Stiles standing in his stupid plaid boxers and he was obviously too tired to notice, or distracted like her. His sheets are white, of course his sheets had to be white! Could've been any other color but no, they were white. The exact opposite of something that would hide blood. She sighs and rolls out of bed, to find her left foot bloody and red. She'll have to sort the bedding out after her lecture.

She pads into the bathroom, her bare feet cool against the hard flooring. She takes her clothes off, jumps in the shower and warms herself up by allowing the steamy water to soak into her skin and run through her veins. She watches the blood turn pink in the running water, and she washes in Stiles' shower gel. Or so she thinks, really she's just going by what he usually smells like. She stops the water and wraps herself in a clean towel she retrieved from the cupboard, she has to go back to her apartment though, she needs clothes and she has a lecture in an hour.

She dries herself off and fetches her underwear, her cut begins to bleed again so she fishes around for a bandage. She finds Stiles' first aid kit under his bed along with a half a box of condoms. She fixes herself up, then hunts for any sign of women's clothing.

She starts in Stiles' wardrobe and is oddly relived to find there are no women's clothes in his room, nothing from one night-stands or short-term relationships. She hunts in Scott's room which feels invasive, she knows he'll be able to smell she's been in here. She finds a girls jumper, cream with black hearts knitted on and identifies it as Kira's. Something hits her, deep in her chest and she sinks to the floor.

She hasn't seen, spoke or heard Kira in so long and finding this, of hers makes Lydia want her best friend back. She takes a sniff of it, and faintly smells Kira but it's losing its scent. So vaguely she smells Nina Ricci perfume and something earthy. How long has it been since she left? Around eight months, maybe? She forces herself to blink the tears away, and places the jumper back in Scott's closet and leaves his room. Wearing her clothes seems wrong, clearly when it's something Scott's held onto for this long.

Instead she puts on her pajamas but wears one of Stiles' flannels over her, she buttons it up to her throat, it falls mid thigh, she can pass it as a dress. And shoes? She either goes barefoot or wears a pair of Stiles'. She finds a pair of sneakers that looks small enough and nothing that has marvel characters on or blue and orange , then leaves a note in the kitchen explaining herself in case they aren't home when she comes back for the sheets and so they don't think she woke in a fugue state and wandered into the wilderness.

She hauls a cab and is taken back to her apartment.

* * *

She doesn't get much time when she's back but she manages to slap on some makeup, spray dry shampoo in her hair and squeeze into a pair of jeans and a blouse. Then it's off to her lecture, the time drags by when she's there but all she can think of is her and Stiles' conversation and how bad she fucked it up. Saying 'think' instead of saying the complete opposite. She doesn't want him to drift away from her or move onto someone else. She realizes how selfish she seems to herself, trying to hold Stiles back from moving on because she just isn't quite ready yet.

Her lecture finishes and she makes a start for the door, ignoring the familiar faces and the hum of voices that raises when she passes certain people. She drives back to Scott and Stiles'.

No-one's home when she lets herself in which is ideal, really. She needs to wash the sheets that has her blood on it, she'd feel too embarrassed if Scott or Stiles saw it. She strips his bed off and carries the red splotched sheets into the kitchen, they don't have a washer because they use a local launderette so Lydia has to make use with washing up liquid and a bowl of hot water.

She finds a wash bowl under their sink and fills it full with hot water and lots of washing liquid. It bubbles like a bath, and suddenly she thinks of being seven again playing with rubber ducks in a bath while her mother smiled at her.

She plunges the sheets into the bowl, she scrubs with her hands and she almost wants to laugh, it makes her feel like she's trying to cover up a murder. The water tints rosy-pink and she slowly scrubs away the blood, until it's almost completely gone. When she's finished she wrings the sheets out and as she's doing so she hears the door unlock, the chatter of Scott and Stiles.

"But yeah, it happened, after ten _freaking_ years-" She hears Stiles babble, she allows herself to smile. Was he telling Scott about what happened last night? About her confession, that even now feels so taboo.

"Dude-" Scott and Stiles go quiet, Scott's probably sensed her, or can hear her heartbeat. So she steps out of the kitchen, wet sheets in her hands. The pair are stood together in the hall, Scott's hand on Stiles' chest and Scott's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hi." She says as she sees their eyes snap up to meet her, they visibly relax.

"Do I wanna know why you're washing Stiles' sheets?" Scott asks, he scratches his neck and suddenly Lydia is very embarrassed, even if he is joking.

She feels the blood rush to her cheeks, making her burn up. She doesn't want Scott to think they're having this secret relationship in which Lydia comes to their apartment in the morning for quickies with Stiles and then washes his own damn sheets. Although she imagines briefly what it would feel like to be in a relationship with Stiles Stilinski, she imagines waking up every morning next to him, going out for dinner, fooling around any chance they got. Something inside her stirs despite being afraid of falling in love again.

But in reality she had a nightmare, needed Stiles' arms to hold her, and cut her foot on the way here and got blood on the sheets.

"Uh-"

"Yeah Lyds, why _are_ you washing my sheets?" Stiles chuckles, he raises his eyebrows at her. She blushes slightly, not sure why and looks down at the white bedding in her hands. Her hands are gradually becoming colder from holding the heavy, wet sheets.

"I cut my foot last night," She says. "I forgot I did it when I got here, it went over your bed. I'll get you new ones if this doesn't come out."

"Is your foot okay?" Stiles' immediate question is. Something inside her melts, turns to jelly at how considerate he can be; makes her feel so special and like she's worth it.

"My foot? It's fine Stiles- you're sheets, I've ruined your sheets."

"They're only sheets, as long as you're okay. Let me look at your foot." Stiles says gently, he walks closer to her and takes the sheets out of her hands. Most of the blood is off now, maybe if it were soaked the blood will slowly fade away but they may as well be ruined, she doesn't think that faint stain will go away.

He takes her by the hand, pulling her along to the couch. She rolls her eyes. Scott looks at her and smiles slightly, the kind of smile that travels to his eyes. Lydia wonders why Scott's so happy about this, maybe because he's had to hear the highs and lows of their relationship from Stiles, and now Stiles is elated with something she did, he's probably happy for him.

"Sit." He says softly.

"It's just a scratch-"

"Lydia-"

" _Stiles-_ " He looks at her then, his eyes kind and hands gentle as he carefully unzips her ankle boots and removes her sock. Why's he got to be so damn caring and nice to her? She feels like a child, when her dad used to shout she would cry and when her mom would talk sweetly she'd cry at that too. She's a mess, broken and scattered into thousands of pieces and feels the sting of tears in her eyes. No more crying today.

"I'ts quite deep," He examines once he has removes the bandages and places them in a bloody mess on the floor. "How'd it happen?"

Scott leaves the room to retrieve a wet cloth, bandages and antiseptic cream. She rolls her eyes at their obvious fussing.

"I just woke up with it-"

"After your nightmare?" Scott asks, she nods.

"So did you sleep walk?" Stiles asks. Truthfully Lydia hadn't thought too much as to why she had a cut on her foot in the first place, never mind it being identical to the one she fashioned in her dream. It had briefly crossed her mind that she'd caused this because of sleep walking, but she still woke up in her room- that's what didn't make sense to her.

"No," She sighs. "I don't know, I woke up in my room, so if I did sleep walk then I made my way safely back to my room."

"Safely? Your foot is cut." Stiles scoffs, now dabbing at her skin with the lukewarm cotton cloth. She flinches slightly, but as she's about to retract her leg Stiles holds her still and everything settles. Like a rainbow after a storm. Like the light in the dark. "Easy."

"What did you dream about?" Scott asks. Her eyes immediately dart to Stiles', she would've thought he told him about reliving Allison's death just to save her the awkwardness and heartbreak of it.

"It was Allison," She tells him quietly, she can see him visibly slacken and his eyes droop a bit. Stiles' movements slows slightly, but he continues to dab at the wound. "I watched her die."

"Was it graphic?" His eyes have met the ground and she feels heavy on the inside.

"It wasn't graphic, it was more _real_."

"What do you think it means?" Scott questions. Stiles then delicately eases on antiseptic cream onto her soft skin, she flinches at the pain but again Stiles had is massaging her and making a soothing sound until she's okay to have more rubbed on.

"I'm sure it's nothing-"

"She thinks it could be to do with that crazy-ass lady that's been spotted nearby." Stiles blurts, she takes a kick with him and manages to get him in the chest. She was trying to let Scott in on the information easily, now he's going to think she wasn't going to tell him at all.

"It was just a theory." She shrugs and watches Stiles' long, wiry fingers wrap a bandage around her foot that carefully applies pressure to the cut.

"Well," Scott sighs. "How'd you feel about going out for dinner tonight, with Derek?"

" _Derek?_ " Stiles spits, he rises from the crouch he was in. Clearly this is news to both Lydia and Stiles. Scott looks slightly tense, Lydia observes, like he wasn't looking forward to telling them but knew he had to at some point.

"Why?" Lydia asks, she tugs at Stiles' hand, forcing him to sit down.

"He thinks he might know what's going to happen to this town, supernaturally." Scott's brow is furrowed, and despite her shock and reluctance she agrees and so does Stiles.

"Isn't he in Sacramento?" Lydia asks.

"All I know is that he's meeting us at some fancy restaurant a couple of blocks from here." Scott shrugs.

"Okay, what time?" Stiles asks, something about him seems off, the way he speaks and the way his body is so rigid sat next to her. Lydia knows that Stiles didn't ever completely forgive Derek for just abandoning them, but still. He was giving them useful information.

"Around seven, wear something pretty."

* * *

Lydia's pressed in between Scott and Stiles in his battered jeep, Stiles driving and Scott pointing out the directions. Lydia's aware of Stiles' body warmth and the burning smell of fuel, but nothing else. Everything else seems to out of reach and far away, like she isn't really here.

Slowly her stomach winds itself up in a knot, but Lydia brushes it off as being nervous of the anticipation of seeing Derek after this long and what news he has to offer. But who is she trying to fool when her throat begins to throb again?

"Lyds, you aright?" Stiles asks from her side, she can feel her head sway but still she smiles at him and nods.

"I'm just tired." She says, almost too defensively. Stiles and Scott share a look of worry which they think Lydia doesn't see which only adds to her mood. When they arrive Lydia is relieved to have the fresh, night air running through her veins, she feels slightly better once outside so decides to blame her weird feeling on being in the over-crammed and over-heated jeep. She'll turn to anything really to deny the truth.

Stepping into the diner is almost like a haven, all seats and booths here are red leather, _real leather_ (she can tell from the smell) and the tables look like they've been made from the finest marble out there and polished to perfection. Sparkly chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, plunging the room in a soft glow of amber light. The fanciness of it all makes Lydia shiver, despite herself.

This place must cost a fortune.

She surveys the people dining here, all in fancy dresses made from only the best materials and pearls sitting nicely around their throats.

She's glad she listened to Scott's advice on wearing something pretty.

Hugging her curves nicely is a scarlet, red, spaghetti strapped, high-low hem dress with patterns of flowers cut out on it. She fashions it with nude, strap shoes trying to ignore her bandaged foot that ruins the whole damn outfit. Her hair is curled, certain sections pinned back and braided, she's pretty sure she didn't look this nice even at her own prom. On either side her are Scott and Stiles, both with white button-down shirts and black pants, their shoes polished. She has either hand on the insides of their arms, like they're keeping her safe and from drifting away.

They must look deadly, Lydia thinks, like if anyone tried messing with them, they would lose.

"Do you see Derek?" Stiles mutters, she shakes her head trying to ignore the way her legs shake and stomach churns. Lydia grips his arm tighter, trying to take deep breaths as she scans the room.

"There he is," Scott says. She looks over to his general direction, he's sat in a booth with the finest suit that Lydia's ever seen. She has to say when Derek is groomed and looking well she allows herself to admire him slightly. They make their way over to the booth.

"Derek." Scott says nodding, he gives him an awkward hug. Stiles nods and then they clasp hands and Lydia gives him a friendly hug. Scott slides into the seat next to him, so Lydia and Stiles take the sofa-seat opposite.

"You look well, Lydia." Derek offers her a smile, but the wolf is so mysterious and angry all the time that she knows it isn't genuine. Or if it is, she can't take him seriously.

"So do you." She nods, in which she gives him a rewarding 'Lydia Martin' smile. She can tell he's already hiding something from them, taking them here and buttering them up. Her stomach churns again and her throat aches as she downs her glass of champagne, she's conscious of Stiles'eyes trained on her as she does so.

A few moments pass awkwardly, everyone's too afraid to ask questions and confront the truth of anything. Luckily, the waiter saves them so they order which gives them an excuse to talk about the fine cuisine.

"So, why are we here?" Stiles comes out with it, he reads hers and probably Scott's thoughts. She admires Stiles' realism for a minute, how blunt he can be when he wants and can go from that in a split second to the most gentle, caring person to ever exist.

"A catch up-"

" _Please,_ you saw us the other day, now spill it, Derek. Something's going on and we know it." He states.

"You may think you know everything, but you're still kids." Derek says, his voice is calm which somehow freaks Lydia. When people are calm and collected when they should be angry, it makes her think they're planning something.

"We _are_ in College now, I'm sure it's nothing we can't take." Scott sighs, Lydia notes how tired he looks. She wonders if it's because of her weird dreams and screaming episodes, that keeps him up at night.

Derek sighs in return too, his brows drawing together and a hand coming to rest on his forehead.

"It's called an Ubume," He tells us.

"The fuck is an Ubume?" Stiles breathes, she feels him tense next to her so she hesitantly reaches a hand out and links their fingers together under the table. She feels a tingle run up her spine.

"You tell me," Derek shifts in his seat uncomfortably, then the waiter comes along and sets their food down. They thank him then he leaves. "I've been trying to research it, but everything about it is written in Latin."

"So you want me to translate it?" Lydia questions, she realizes then what this meal is all about, just about her helping him and nothing else.

"So is that the only reason why you invited us out?" Stiles' jaw clenches, his hand curling into a fist where her fingers are intertwined.

" _Stiles,_ " Scott's looking tense, and Lydia tries to ignore the growing atmosphere and takes a jab at her salad with her fork.

"Yes, because other than that you're useless." Derek smiles, sarcasm ringing in his words.

"So that's what you do now? Use and abuse the people that _saved_ you?" Stiles retorts, his face is slowly growing redder by the minute.

It hits Lydia then that actually they did save Derek in a way. Who was he before? A lone wolf (literally) who was devastated by the loss of his family, his girlfriend and not to mention the threat of werewolf hunters that were constantly on his back, added to that there was an alpha werewolf running around town.

"Stiles-"

Stiles stands up then, dropping the napkin he'd so carefully placed in his lap. Lydia looks up at him, her jaw falling open. She fears for a moment he's going to punch him, her stomach twists.

"I need someone to help me translate, are you in or are you out?" Derek addresses Lydia.

Stiles looks at her, his gaze intense but admiring. She knows if she says yes she'll have to deal with Stiles, and besides if she says no her, Scott and Stiles are all perfectly capable of doing research themselves.

"I'm sorry," She says, standing up. She smooths the skirt of the dress, buying time. "But that would be going against my morals."

Stiles offers her a hand, and she takes it; clasps onto it like a lifeline.

Her, Stiles and a reluctant Scott leave the restaurant and leave Derek. When they get in the jeep Lydia's stomach knots again, and an ache spreads to her throat. She shudders, this is no nervous feeling. It's a banshee feeling.


	6. Chapter Six

**Please read and review :)**

* * *

She wakes up screaming. It rips from her throat like a wild animal, it claws at her lungs and roars like a beast as she screams into the darkness of Stiles' bedroom.

"Lydia," It's Stiles voice bringing her back. "Lydia- shh- hey, Lydia-" He's pushing her down by the shoulders trying to control her, she's shaking uncontrollably and feels her throat begin to burn raw.

"Stiles what the hell is happening?" Scott's voice shakes. Lydia tries to stop screaming but it tears, rips and bleeds out of her and there's nothing she can do about it except let it happen. Her lungs ache for air, and she mentally tells them to hold on because this scream isn't stopping anytime soon.

"You think I know? Lydia- please come back to me-"

It stops, finally. Like playing tug-of-war and finally winning the rope, but there's no pull in her throat telling her to scream and not to scream. There's only her supernatural powers taking over her life. She gags, air trying desperately to fill her lungs.

Slowly, desolate tears run from her unblinking eyes and drips steadily onto her nightshirt. It was burning her eyes, her cheeks flaring with heat.

"Lydia, are you okay?" Stiles voice is soothing, silencing the hum of static in her head. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her lifeless-limbs into his lamp. She cries harder. His kindness makes her weak. His stubbornness would make her strong.

"Is someone going to die?" Scott leans forward on the bed, she shakes her head. She doesn't understand what her powers are trying to tell her, maybe that something really bad is going to happen- but what can be worse than what they've gone through?

"I don't know," She croaks, her voice spent. There's no emotion, no tone just a small, weak rasp. "I don't know what it feels like."

"It's not death?" Stiles questions, still his arms warmly holding her like a child. He's running a thumb through her hair, stroking down her arm, then back up to her hair again, in a pattern.

"I don't know." She says again, because she doesn't. Her body and mind is weak, all she can think of is the pull of sleep tugging at her.

She hears Scott sigh, but feels his hand squeeze hers.

"What do you wanna do?" Scott asks softly.

"Sleep," She crawls out of Stiles arms, and slides back beneath the blanket. She feels Stiles sling an arm around her, keeping her grounded and he pulls her closer in which she happily accepts. And when Scott's about to leave she tugs at his hand so he'll stay with her until she falls asleep. She needs them both. "Will it ever stop?"

Stiles knows she's talking about being a banshee and about the supernatural continuing to wreck their lives. "I don't think so."

* * *

That weekend she stays with Scott and Stiles, and is on a strict no leaving the apartment by herself and not stressing too much. So she studies with both of them, helps Scott with an assignment and does Stiles' stats papers. If they aren't doing that they're eating pizza and ice cream or playing on the Xbox.

They don't talk about her screaming, or the Ubume, or Derek. They pretend like they're normal teenagers who work their asses off at College and eat junk food at any given chance. And Lydia believes it, that they are normal for that small moment in her life because it feels so damn good.

But when Sunday draws to a close that feeling is lost somewhere deep in the void of her soul. They'll never be normal, not even Stiles because where ever they go monsters seem to follow. Lydia tries to allow it, tells herself she's being brave and bad-ass but it's soul crushing and mood dropping.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Scott asks, she rolls her eyes. They make as if she's going across the world when in reality she's taking ten minute cab journey.

"I'm literally a phone call away."

"I still don't think you should be going back," Stiles rants, his hands flailing around in exaggerated gestures. Lydia tries not to think about how much she wants to stay with him because she knows if she does she might cry.

"Stiles, I have to. It's Stanford, it's my dream." She tell him as firmly as her voice will go. She cringes when she hears her voice waver, but she can't afford to miss another day. She smiles at them both, but their eyebrows raise so she looks away scared they'll see through how she really feels.

She realizes then that they've said goodbye so much recently. She hates goodbye. Goodbye means the ones she loves walking out on her, it means heartbreak, it means no seeing Stiles.

"Call me later then." Stiles says softly, he reaches out and tugs at her wrist, pulls her in for a hug. She's enveloped into his warmth and smell. She can feel his muscles, hard beneath her soft body. She almost cries. And she almost kisses him. If Scott weren't here she probably would too, but there's something so taboo about a relationship with him that she doesn't dare do it.

But it hits her then, that she wants a relationship with Stiles.

She wants to put behind every shitty relationship that ever happened to her, every one-night stand and every feeling of not ever being enough for a boy. She wants lazy sex with Stiles, and lounging around in his flannels and she wants to help him with homework. She wants him, in every aspect of life, she _needs_ him. She can feel the flame of lust curl in her belly and spread to her toes.

"See you soon, Lydia." She doesn't doubt Scott doesn't smell the lust that's coming off of her when he hugs her and kisses her forehead.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," She nods. She feels incomplete now. Feels like they should've talked supernatural while they had the chance because Lydia doesn't want to be alone if something bad happens. "See you."

She allows her eyes to linger on Stiles, like a look of knowing, that she's secretly saying _Don't let me go, I love you._

* * *

"You and me, shopping now." That's what Amelia says to Lydia the minute she comes home from her lectures. All Lydia wants to do is sleep, she wants to take her bra off and not think for just one second.

"Like, right now?" Lydia can't help but feel deflated. She's tired and Amelia doesn't know what it's like being her.

"I need a new dress and Lydia, what's happened to all your shoes?" She sighs. Lydia looks down at her shoes, they're flats and they have to be. She still has a gash on her foot so heels aren't exactly the most comfortable problems.

"I-" She begins, but she doesn't know what justifying excuse she can come up with. So she sighs. "Give me five minutes."

Lydia uses the time to change clothes and freshen up slightly, despite her heavy feet she walked with a smile on her face and her chin held high. How many times had she roamed the halls of Beacon Hills High like that?

She finds some relief in shopping though. The glossiness of the highway stores, the smell of rich perfume in every beauty store they went in and the feel of paper bags digging into her arms as she continued to buy. She pretends everything was okay to Amelia because she doesn't know or trust her well enough to tell her all what happened. But when Amelia talks to her about whatever, Lydia's mind floats away and she thinks of Stiles.

She thinks of how much she would rather be shopping with Stiles instead of her. She wonders how impressed he'd be if he saw her in underwear. So she makes a point of wanting to go to Victoria's Secret.

She buys new dresses for parties, and some to wear casually. She hasn't wore dresses in a long time, she grew out of them around senior year of high school. She felt too grown up for them, she felt to strong to be wearing such ditsy material. She buys pencil skirts, tube skirts and high-hem low-hem skirts too. She gains bags and bags full of tops; tanks, blouses and puplum shirts. She buys heels, flats and new running shoes. She just wants to get rid of everything she knows, because it's all a reminder of her tragic life, she wants to start over. She buys mounds of jeans, too, skinny, boyfriend and mom jeans. She purchases bras: bralettes, balconets and the ones that plunge, silky bodysuits to wear to bed and a white satin robe. She goes over her limit, maxes out two of her credit cards but she doesn't care. She rebuilds herself, uses this as an excuse to pretend she isn't fazed by anything at all.

And they eat out at this fancy diner where all they serve are cocktails. Her and Amelia laugh, talk and gossip. Like normal students should. She even tells her about Stiles and how much she likes him, although she leaves so many major details out she isn't sure Amelia grasps how intense their love is for one another.

Her whole days falls to pieces when they walk home. Amelia has one arm hooked in Lydia's and they sway happily in the night as they walk back to their apartment. Lydia is lightly buzzed from the alcohol and her successful day shopping. It turns to dust when she notices something from across the road.

They're just veering to the right of The Golden Gate Bridge when she notices a woman. She's dressed in white and only white. White robes sit on her, her feet bare and dirty from the ground and black hair matted on her head. She doesn't see her face.

"Do you see that?" She whispers to Amelia, she can feel fear and adrenaline cursing through her veins.

"That homeless person?" She states. Lydia tries to convince herself that she is homeless because that is a perfect, logical explanation but something in her knots and turns cold.

She hobbles around the road, trying to talk to people but everyone walks faster and past her then... Where did that person just go? A man was walking then he just _disappeared._

If that doesn't spell out 'supernatural' then she doesn't know what will.

She watches more closely, Amelia giving her a confused look as she doesn't budge despite Amelia trying to pull her away.

"You can go on if you want," Lydia says to her, she needs to investigate this.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I have a phone call to make anyway." She lies. Amelia nods and squeezes her hand then leaves her.

So Lydia positions herself behind a bush and watches for something to happen. She watches the old woman stagger across the road, her hair covering her face. Then a young woman begins to walk, texting away on her phone and when the woman reaches a shriveled hand to her she back away, her face contorted in disgust. Carefully, Lydia keeps her eyes trained on the young woman. It goes a little fuzzy and unclear, the woman walks until she passes a certain point of the path, then she disappears. Just like the man before.

She fears that this is the woman that's been sighted, wonders if this is an Ubume what Derek talked about.

She detours, takes a back route home so she doesn't risk being spotted by the creepy woman and walks so fast back to her apartment that she's out of breath when she gets to her room. Al the lights are off in here which makes her think Conrad and Amelia went to bed or have gone out without her. Well, she thinks, isn't that polite?

She drops her bags by her door and makes a mental note of throwing her old clothes out and replacing them with the new ones she got. But now, she'll call Stiles. Half because somewhere deep inside her she's longing for him and partly because she wants to tell him what she saw. She wants him to be the first person to hear it, not Scott.

It rings three times, "Lydia?"

She smiles, despite the situation. "Stiles, you wouldn't believe what I just saw-"

"Star Wars?" He sounds hopeful, she imagines the look on his face, a smirk and eyebrows raised and eyes wide in delight.

"You wish," She smiles. "I just saw some dodgy-ass-most-likely-to-be-supernatural shit happen by The Golden Gate Bridge."

"What? How'd you know it's supernatural?"

"I'll explain when I see you next-"

"Please don't tell me you checked this out by yourself," Stiles sounds desperate suddenly, like he really thinks she'd be stupid enough to do that.

"No, I mean I watched it happen twice but-"

"You realize how stupid that is? What if you were caught?" He asks, he doesn't sound mad which relives Lydia. Over-protective Stiles can annoy her at times, especially when she was trying to tell him about what she saw.

"Well I wasn't so, isn't that the main thing?" She tries to reason with him because she doesn't want him to be mad at her or to be worried. She's been doing this long enough to know that you don't investigate alone, and she didn't investigated, she observed.

"What did you see?" He sighs, Lydia can tell he's dropping the argument now because that was thing with them in a fight they're lethal, but around each other they melt.

"It's hard to explain over phone," She sighs lying down on her bed, she fingers at a loose thread.

"I'll be there in ten." Is all he says and then the line is dead. She looks stunned for a brief moment but allows it, how many times do they do this? Meet late at night to talk about the supernatural. It's like a ritual, a tradition, a routine that they always do when something like this happens.

So she uses the time to brush her hair and spritz perfume on herself and around her room. She also makes her shopping bags (in particular the ones from Victoria Secret) evident by placing them right at the edge of her bed, also placing some on her desk. Why does she do this? She wants him to see how happy she can be, what she can be like as a normal girl outside of being a banshee, she wants him to picture her in new underwear and tight new jeans.

She tidies up too, makes her bed and fluffs up her cushions, makes sure every dirty piece of laundry is put into her hamper and her pens and paper are organized on her desk. She's been so distracted lately she hasn't had time to really clean around here. Then she's drawn away from her thoughts when the front door knocks, she jumps up to answer.

Not surprisingly, Stiles is there, wind ruffled hair and untied shoe laces. Messy and tired, just how she likes him.

"This better be good." Is all he says before she launches into the story of her night.


	7. Chapter Seven

"So they just disappeared?" Stiles is bewildered, his eyes blown wide and his brow furrowed in thought. She can sense him over-thinking every scenario that this might be, or what it could mean, or what to do next. The wheels turning behind his eyes, working over-time, exhausting him.

"Yes, the weird lady tried talking to them and then they walked and passed through some portal or whatever!" She exclaims. The more she thinks about it, the more it doesn't seem true as to what she saw. She starts to question if all of this is because she's sleep deprived, or if it's because she has been so distracted all the time because of the boy sat before her.

"Where was it too?"

"By Golden Gate Bridge, which means if this woman is making these people disappear there must be a lot of people going missing everyday." Lydia looks at Stiles, trying to figure out what he's thinking. He's never been a closed book but when he doesn't share his thoughts, Lydia finds him most difficult to figure out.

"Do you think they go missing or erased?" His eyes are glowing in fear but Lydia can't help feeling unnerved by his alarm. This usually happens when they're fighting off the villain, she gets scared when Stiles is. He keeps her so grounded and makes her feel safe so when he's unsure of something she can't help the uncertainty that surges through her.

"What do you mean, erased?"

"Like erased from existence, like the Ghost Riders. What if no-one can remember them so it doesn't matter if they go missing?" He sounds worried, scared and Lydia knows why now when he mentions the Ghost Riders. He was took for months and none of the pack could figure out who they were missing (except Lydia). He fears it'll happen to him again, she assumes. Like hell is she going to let that happen again.

"Let's google it, then. If people have been going missing before tonight doesn't that mean police reports would've been filed?" Lydia suggests, so she searches for her phone but Stiles is already on it on his phone looking at the local news. She doesn't want him thinking of his time with the Ghost Riders; isolated and alone.

"Okay there is a report on a man, aged twenty-seven, gone missing yesterday midday when going to work," Stiles says, his eyes scanning the screen. "Yep, he had to pass the Golden Gate Bridge to get to his work."

"Well isn't it good they're just missing and not erased-"

"If they're missing it could also mean they're dead." He states, his voice flat. She flinches at his words, it reminds her how brutal everything is. She likes to believe there is still good in the world, wants to think there's such things as innocence and love.

"So, what do we do? They're missing but what?"

"We find a way to get them back," He tells her. His gaze is intense, boring into her eyes like he's looking at the stars. "We have to find out what's actually going on."

"Do you think it's supernatural?" She asks, and she knows how stupid and naive she must sound to him but she tries to deny what everything inside her is telling her. She doesn't want to be involved in another supernatural act, she's tired and done playing this game. She wants out. She's quiting.

Even now, in college their lives are _still_ being disrupted and put in danger. There is no escaping it if that's who you are, she realizes. The supernatural world has taken everything she loves: her two best-friends, two of her ex-boyfriends. How can she tell herself that it's a good thing when it's caused her this much trauma? Everything she's built here is just tumbling down and drowning her. There is no escape, no matter how fast you're running.

She thinks to herself that if she were Stiles she would make a run for it, never think twice about who he's left behind because he still has a shot at normal.

She realizes then that her eyes are burning with tears, her bottom lip is trembling so she tries to look somewhere else. Out the window is a safe option, she can look at the passersby and wonder how lucky they are to have such a normal and boring life. She'd give anything to be normal. To not be broken.

"Hey, hey-" Stiles is immediately pulling her into his chest. She's lost count on how many times he's been there for her when she's broke down. All those times he hugged her when there is no-one else to hold her. How many times has he kissed her forehead when words weren't enough?

"I can't do this anymore." She cries, her voice increasing in pitch as her tears catch in her throat. She's knows how stupid this is and how Stiles must secretly mock her for it, but every emotion hits her at once.

"It's okay, I'm here." His voice is soothing and it doesn't surprise her that it silences the whispers in her head. No more voices just calm static. She sobs harder, tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Please, Stiles, I can't do this. I want out-" Her speech is in sobs, she doesn't know what he can do to stop this but she can at least beg. She grips a fistful of his shirt in her hands and tugs at it. She needs to take her frustration out on something and he's right here. He also knows how to handle her when she gets like this, maybe that's why she lets her walls fall down when she's with him.

"Lyds-"

"Stiles, help me I'm drowning-" She cries harder, gives another tug at his shirt. Why is she taking it out on him? He can't find the cure for being a banshee, hell he can't really help her at all. "I don't want this anymore."

"Shh," He slowly peels her curled up fingers off his shirt and keeps her hands in his. Her breathing is becoming uneven and her hiccups are jolting her every now and then. "Hear my heartbeat?"

She presses her ear to his chest and tries to focus over all those voices that returned.

 _Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

"Concentrate on that."

Over and over she focuses on his strong, steady human heart. Tries to sync her breathing with his as he gently runs his fingers through her hair. She isn't sure how long they stay like that but all she knows is she doesn't want to move. She's half embarrassed by the state she got herself in and half miserable by the harsh reality. She's never going to get away from the chaos of being a banshee.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still here?" She asks. She realizes she sounds rude and it's out of context so she draws back and looks him in the eye. Somewhere deep she sees he's dejected, so she amends. "Why aren't you bolting it out of this door and running away from everything supernatural?"

"How can I leave you and Scott behind?" He questions, she finds his hand and holds onto it; a lifeline. "I couldn't do that knowing what you would have to go through."

She allows her forehead to connect with his. They're closer now, breaths mixing and eyes meeting. Once again she feels exposed, like he could read her exact thoughts right now.

"But you could have it so much easier," She's whispering now, she's trying to elaborate on what she asked him, to see if his answer changes. "So, I'll ask you again. Why aren't you running away from this all?"

"Because I love you."

She doesn't want to but she lets a tear fall. He's so damn sweet and she wishes she didn't believe it. She wishes she didn't have to hear how soft his voice was or how his eyes were glistening when he said that.

It's a prayer, a curse. It's everything holy and sinful.

She almost says it back too, but there's those stupid puppet strings controlling her mind and she can't tell him it. He's going to have to make do with the uncertain 'I think I love you' he received. Lydia's not good at feeling, and right now she's feeling all too much. She's good at the kissing and the sex, everything else that hits her heart she can't do.

"I wish our life wasn't like this." She says, sliding a hand up to cup his cheek.

"If I could take everything away; your hurt, your pain, your sadness- I would. In a heartbeat." His voice gentle and quiet calming everything that's raging inside her. It's cooling her blood, silencing her mind and slowing down her heart. His love makes her think she's dying.

"I know you would." She smiles, she hopes it looks genuine because it is. It's calculated what he's saying, this isn't made up bullshit or what he pretends to believe. This is him comforting her. This is him loving her.

"So how do we figure out why these people have gone missing?" He changes the subject which she's grateful for, she doesn't want to start crying again.

"We go and investigate."

* * *

It takes them a while to get a good vantage point because it's so dark out but also because Stiles gets very overprotective. So they opt for standing at the end of the bridge in hopes that they won't be seen by anyone. It's late anyway, so the streets are quiet.

"What am I looking at?" Stiles whispers, he's crouched right behind her as they peep through the railings. His breath is warm on her neck so she shivers and blushes when she thinks he notices.

"The old hag about twenty yards away." Lydia tells him dryly, she sees his lips quirk up into a smirk. She gets the urge to kiss him, just to falter his stupid smirk.

"I mean what are we waiting for?"

"For someone to walk past, I guess." Lydia sighs in defeat. Of course no-one would be walking past at this time of night. Everyone's in night clubs or in bed, like normal people.

"For someone else to go missing?" He questions, Lydia realizes how selfish they're being. Allowing another innocent person to walk into this trap just so they can find out more information.

"We have to find a theory," Lydia whispers back at him. "Otherwise we get no hypothesis."

"There has to be a way to find a theory without putting anyone at risk-" She turns around to him, unexpectedly close.

"Stiles, do you ever shut up?" She sees his mouth curl into a smile and she rolls her eyes. He holds onto her wrist before she turns away and draws her in closer. All she can focus on the pinkness of his tender lips, they're pink like a rose and when they quirk into a smile she has an irresistible urge to kiss him. His breath is hot, fanning her lips. Their lips almost touch when someone walks past them, not the woman thankfully but a poor drunken girl in a sparkly dress and high heels probably on her way home after a night-out.

"Maybe we should-"

"Shh-" She puts a hand on his mouth and they both watch through the railings.

The old woman sees the young girl approaching and she slowly takes down her black, hooded robe to reveal her face. Maybe if Lydia or Stiles had super-sight they could see her face more clearly. But from what Lydia registers is that her skin is a deathly white with wrinkles criss-crossed onto her face marking it with age. Her hair is white is like snow. When the dark robe drops from her hands something so unnerving washes over Lydia. The woman isn't wearing a top or a bra, leaving her bare breasts out in the open. From her waist down she wears a skirt, a sickly red, like blood. It probably is blood, Lydia thinks.

She somehow finds Stiles' hand and grasps onto it, to let him know that they're in this together. To let him know she needs him to hold her.

She can see from here how wary the young girl is of walking, alone at night, and now she's stumbled across a half-naked woman she's probably regretting paying for a cab. Lydia stops breathing as she watches, her hand squeezing Stiles' as she lets this unfold. It's when the young girl is about a meter away the old hag begins to approach her. Another squeeze. It's then that Lydia notices that her black robe that was discarded on the floor has materialized into something that lies over the old woman's shoulder. A child.

"Stiles, she has a child." Lydia whispers, clouds fluffing in the air from her breath. She feels something maternal wash over her, an instinct. What if the child is in danger and Lydia can save it right now? For once she wouldn't just find the body she would stop it in time.

"Wait-" He pulls her down from where she was slowly, unconsciously beginning to rise from her crouched position.

The woman offers the girl the baby, but she carries on walking holding a hand up and shaking her head. Lydia feels over-protectiveness flood her bones, she has to save that child, even if it means her own death. Then, just in a flash the girl disappears like she was never even there. Suddenly, it feels like the starlight has dimmed and the night is seemingly darker than before. No light; no hope.

"She has a kid, we need to save it!" Lydia says defiantly, she stands up and wrenches away from Stiles' grasp but _damn_ when did he get that strong?

"What if it's a trick?"

She stills for a moment and observes the woman again, but Lydia senses something real about this, she never doubts her senses.

"If that was me, over there with _her,_ would you save me?"

"Yes." He doesn't miss a beat, her stomach flips.

"Then if that is a poor, innocent child it needs to be saved. It wasn't there when I saw her earlier on." Lydia defends. Stiles' gaze is glittery in moonlight and his eyes flit over her like she's insane in the best possible way.

"Are you freaking crazy?" His hands cup her face and she admires how rough his palms are but at how soft his touch is.

"It's-"

"It's a trick." He tells her again, slowly this time. But how is he so sure? How does he know that that is part of the act? "I wouldn't lie to you."

For once she's speechless and can't form anything to defend herself, he's gazing at her like she's the universe and he's holding her face like he'll lose her if he lets go. Maybe if he does let go she' run, run for the child and not look back on Stiles until it's saved. Then his lips crush hers in a desperate act, it's like he read her mind, knew she thought of making a run for it to save a child. They were somewhere in the middle of the bridge in the cold tingly air but Stiles' hands now on her waist are electrifying her bones, making her warm. He tasted sweet, like candy he'd probably been munching on earlier and his lips were brushing hers. She pulls back, her lungs burning for oxygen, she looks up at him in awe.

"Wha-"

"If you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind." He repeats, softly like it's something he shouldn't be saying. But she remembers that he told her, she remembers how greatly sad it felt to be loved. "That isn't worth a hair on your head."

Her heart speeds up, she wonders how he makes loving her look so natural. Like it's an instinct. And she almost tells him she loves him there, but her mouth is dry and she's speechless at the way he stirred something so deep in her chest. At this point she thinks it's possible that she loves him more than he loves her.

* * *

"No fucking way." Stiles sighs, Lydia's back at their apartment after seeing no way she could possibly stay alone tonight, after what just happened. Another disappearance, another supernatural case.

Scott was awake when they got back, unsurprisingly and he had news. Horrible, terrible, worrying news of what they were dealing at hand. According to Derek, Issac has gone missing. _Missing_. Gone. Vanished.

"Since when?" Lydia asks, they're in Stiles' room. Stiles is lead back down on the bed, his hand covering his forehead, Lydia's sat next to him, their legs touching and Scott's lent against the wall. Lydia notices how tired Scott looks, how discolored his features are. Maybe he wants out of this broken life as much as she does.

"Well Derek kept tabs on him and as of three days ago he hasn't contacted Derek." Scott's forehead creases and Lydia tries to remember the last time when it wasn't like that.

"I screamed three days ago." Lydia stares at the floor, unable to look anywhere else because she felt it, Issac leave existence. "He must be dead."

"Don't say that," Stiles whispers softly, his long fingers curl around her wrist. She refuses to cry again, she doesn't want to give Peter the satisfaction of it, because he did this to them. Ruined all their lives before they had chance to actually live. "We'll find him."

"What if it's a dead body we find?" She asks, there isn't any sugar coating what might of happened, banshees predict death. Nothing else.

"We're going to find Issac," Scott says but even he sounds defeated. " _Alive_."

"And if we don't?" Lydia questions, she looks up at him then to see Scott's face, she wishes she can unsee it. The color red has risen in his cheeks, and his lip is caught between his teeth. And his warm, brown eyes are glossy with tears. The leader has lost hope. That's what breaks Lydia, to see Scott like this. The one who is always in tact is falling apart.

"We will." Stiles wraps an arm around her, rests his chin on her shoulder as he looks up at his best friend.

"About what you saw," Scott says, he sniffs and takes a rub at his eyes. "Did you see anything like mountain ash, or something that could've made what you saw an illusion?"

"Scott, the girl just disappeared, into thin air. Like she wasn't even there." Stiles tells him again, Scott nods and Lydia can feel her throat tighten. She leans into Stiles slightly, allows his warmth to consume her sadness.

"I'm going to stay with Derek tonight, we need to sort things out." Scott tells them, they don't say anything in return but just nod and he leaves.

It becomes so much worse when someone in the pack is effected, just like it was with Allison.

With a horrible feeling creeping over Lydia she realizes how that Stiles could of been the one missing, not Issac. And if she lost Stiles? He would never of known that she loves him, for sure. So she decides it, he needs to know how she feels and now is a good of a time as ever.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Deepest apologies that I haven't updated in ages but here is the next chapter :) I hope you like this chapter so please leave a review.**

* * *

Lydia lies on Stiles' bed looking pointlessly up at the dull ceiling, thinking. She thinks of the shady meeting with Derek and how she refused to help him, she thinks of Kira in the desert with the Skin-Walkers and she thinks of Stiles. Stiles, the boy with the bat that lies next to her, somewhat drifting in and out of sleep. Lydia doesn't know what the time is, but she knows it's time to tell Stiles how she feels.

She thinks of every moment they've ever shared and marvels at the way they have been acting with one another in the past year. It has been small touches, stolen glances and secret kisses that never evolve into anything. Except her growing love for him. And tonight, at the bridge stirred something in Lydia and the fact that Issac is missing is only leaving her wondering how that could of been Stiles.

"What're you thinking?" Stiles whispers from beside her, he props himself up on an elbow next to her and looks down. She wishes that loving someone didn't make her nervous as hell, or make her feel this vulnerable.

"Nothing."

" _Lydia_." He says softly like it's poetry, he knows she's thinking a million things and can't bring herself to tell him what's going on in her mind. Her thoughts are a confusing place.

She turns her head to look at him, his eyes. She really takes it in then, the whiskey-brown with golden specks, bright and wide looking down at her like she's something holy.

"What if it had been you that went missing and not Issac?" She speaks, gazing into his eyes and wondering how his long eyelashes don't tickle his eyebrows or his lower eyelids. He stays silent, lips parted causing hot air to fan on Lydia's face. "I would've hated myself."

"For what?" His eyes darken.

"For never telling you how much I love you." She whispers, her words fall from her lips so naturally and she decides she likes it. She likes the way her stomach flips and how butterfly wings flap in her stomach. She likes what it means to her. She can feel tears burn in her eyes because she shouldn't of waited this long, he deserves to hear it every single day.

"If you aren't ready then you don't have to-"

"I''m telling you because it's true, Stiles." She tells him, she runs a hand through his hair and rests her small palm on his face. She wills herself not to cry, Stiles isn't like Jackson or Aiden. He comforts her when she needs it, and he's the complete opposite of how they treated her. "I'm in love with you."

"I'd still wait forever to hear that." He smiles at her, his smile is so warm it heats up her chilled bones and his eyes are gently roaming over her face in awe.

"Now you don't have to." Lydia says to him.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifts her head off of the pillow to kiss him. His lips are soft against her own and she can feel his tongue delicately trace the seam of her lips, she opens up for him and their tongues tirelessly dance together. It isn't what she thought it would be like after she told him she loved him, she thought it would be fast and desperate but it's passionate and intense. Intense enough it makes her stomach churn slightly.

She realizes he's now on top of her, his arms holding up all his weight and his outgrown hair tickling her forehead. Her hands still cup his face, admiring how smooth his skin is under her fingers. They don't part with one another for a long time, not even when their lungs burn for air because they're so wrapped up in one another. Gradually, their breaths become more labored and their bodies begin to break out in a sweat.

There's no questioning where this is going, this is who-knows-how-many-years of love built up and it's out there now, in the air waiting for something to happen.

How many times had he wished this would happen? How many times has she pondered how he'd taste when she's kissing him?

"Shouldn't we go on a date or something, before this?" Stiles breathes, his kisses have become sloppy and he peppers them down her neck as she threads her fingers through his hair.

"I think we're way past that, don't you think?" Lydia sighs and can't help the way that she sounds so breathy when she speaks, all because of him.

He hums in response which sends a vibration through her chest, his lips now dangerously close to her breasts. She realizes how after this, there is no going back. Once she strips bare of her final layer and she lets him see her, really see her, there's no going back in what will happen next. She knows she should feel nervous, or scared that everything she feels will be known to him, but she's excited. She's ambushed with butterflies and the churning of her stomach. How can he make her feel like this after a few kisses?

But, she supposes, it's not just a few kisses. It's his whole manner and the things he's done for her. It's when he would come to her house at God-knows what time to hold her after a nightmare, or keep her safe when they were dealing with a supernatural monster, or just telling her that he loved her because it was something she never hears.

His hands trails down her sides and she shivers reflexively and he looks up and gives her a lopsided grin.

"Off?" He suggests as he tugs at the hem of her long t-shirt, she nods desperately, she just wants it to be him and her. No fabric in the way, just skin on skin. She's left in a white bralette and a matching pair of lace panties.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He whispers and everything inside Lydia's mind dies down. All she can focus on is his hot breath, warm hands and husky voice. There are no voices now, no static, just calm.

He closes a mouth around a nipple, making it pebble. He doesn't even take the bra off, just works her through it and she loves it.

"Stiles," She moans as his lips pepper kisses up her left thigh, all she can do is push her head into the pillow as she tries to control her breathing. She tangles a hand in his brown hair and pulls slightly when she can feel his breath right up against the lace.

He's still fully clothed she realizes and she has an irresistible urge to strip him bare of his clothes.

He's about to tug the lace down when she gets up, resting on her elbows. "Those don't come off until something of yours does."

"Just couldn't wait, could you?" He smiles and she returns it, admiring the way his lips are now red and swollen. He's kneeling in between her legs when he takes his shirt off, she really takes him in then. All lean muscle and popping veins. Her breath hitches and she runs a teasing hand up his torso.

He presses a kiss to her lips, it's long and lasts a lifetime then his body travels back down to where he left off.

He carefully removes the lace, chucking it in the abyss of his room and unexpectedly tugs at her legs, spreading her wide open. Her breath catches in her throat and she looks down at him through her coated eyelashes, his eyes are glistening and his lips are parted.

"Jesus Christ, Lydia."

She sighs and wriggles slightly, she's getting restless that he hasn't got that mouth to her yet. He seems to sense it because he smirks, before breathing on her. Not licking or doing anything with his fingers. He breathes. Just breathes.

"Stiles, please." Her moan doesn't sound like her, but all she knows is she's going to combust if he doesn't do _something._

He spreads her open, painfully slow, with his long fingers and Lydia shivers with pleasure. Her hands clutch at the sheets for purchase. His tongue finally takes a flick at her, she can't help the moan that breaks from her and she can feel Stiles smile against her. He creates a rhythm with his tongue, swiping and flicking, up and down then sideways. She feels the tingles and twirls and swirls of his tongue crawl up her spine, until she's shaking, desperate to let go. His tongue goes faster, occasionally sucking on her labia; she's a hurricane of burning heat and there's no stopping it. The pressure builds and builds until Stiles makes a slow, brilliant lick at her. She comes with a satisfied moan, all over the bed and when Stiles looks at her again his eyes are dancing in amazement.

She kisses him, desperately pulling him to her, she can taste herself on his lips. It makes something burn inside of her, a type of lust and adoration for Stiles.

"I need you," She says into his skin. "I _want_ you."

His stare is intense for a moment, pupils blown wide. "You got me."

Then he's rolling a condom on and Lydia's watching in fascination. She trails her hands down his length, teasing him, before she lies down and waits for him.

He hovers over her and she can feel the small pressure of him right up against her and she shivers, feels lust curl around her hips and run up her spine. She's almost shaking with anticipation, of what it will feel like when he's finally inside of her.

He enters, slowly and his eyes squeeze shut for a second, like he has to tell himself this isn't a dream. There's a shoot of sharp pain but after that it's sweet and everything she wants.

"Does it hurt?" He murmurs, lips brushing hers. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes closed, feeling him inside her is like a dream. After so long, they're finally here.

Lydia feels like she's in a dream land, like she's dancing on clouds. She doesn't think of those nameless boys she's fucked in her time here, all she can think about is Stiles.

Her legs wrap tightly around his waist and they both roll their hips against one another, finding a new spot in Lydia she's never felt before. He clasps her hand and he squeezes, placing a kiss on her lips. She's never known want to do with her hands during sex, never known where to put them or what to touch, now she doesn't worry about that because Stiles' body is a map of constellations and landslides; she doesn't have any problem roaming her free hand up and down his spin.

She feels the pressure of him when he hits the deepest spot he can find, and she can feel the spine-tingling stroke when he pulls out.

She can feel her muscles clenching around him, and she wishes this would last longer but _holy shit_ Stiles is good in bed.

Suddenly he uses one of his long hands to lift her hips up for something deeper, and then she's panting uncontrollably. Everything inside her body is burning, tingling with the sensation of being fucked by Stiles. She chases after it, holds onto the tug of the orgasm like it's going to save her, and lets go.

She comes and comes again, and there's nothing she can be embarrassed for because it's him. After all this time that's who she needed, Stiles.

The only person who could make her feel jelly-kneed and thoroughly loved is, of course, Stiles.

Stiles comes too, his hips twitching and eyes shutting. They both bring each other down from their high and for one perfect moment it was like they're normal. Like they are normal people who are in love and having sex, no supernatural bullshit or life threatening situations.

He kisses her forehead then pulls out, removing the condom and settling beside her. She curls into his naked body, he's hot and sweaty and his hair is disheveled but she likes it. She did this to him.

"Does this mean, we're like, official?" He asks after they catch their breath, she can hear his smile in his voice so she looks up at him. His eyes sparkling in happiness.

"I thought that was a given." Lydia smiles, he kisses her then, nudging his tongue into her mouth in which she opens.

His hands trail down her side and she shivers, then his hands drift to her thigh, squeezing it lightly as she can't help but grind into him.

"I love you." Stiles whispers and Lydia smiles because she knows now how easy it will be for her to say it back.

"And I love you." She tell him.

It hits her then, really hits her how she's never felt this kind of love for anyone else, not even Jackson. She knows they're tethers and save each other on a daily basis but she can't help the contented feeling that washes over her when she realizes for once that wasn't just sex, he didn't just fuck her, he made love to her.

* * *

"Lydia, here are the photocopies of the Latin you need to translate, we don't have long." Scott orders the next day, they're sitting in their lounge.

Scott had returned early hours of the morning, but Lydia and Stiles didn't say anything, it was something unspoken but they knew now wasn't a good time to be announcing their relationship. Although, Scott's keen werewolf senses probably smelt something, but if he did he didn't say anything. Maybe he was being polite, or oblivious.

"How much?" Lydia murmurs when he hands her the stack of paper, it's inches thick and her mind is already hurting.

"Anything new on Issac?" Stiles asks, Lydia can't help but smile at his voice. She feels stupidly in love, like a teenager all because they're together. For real.

She looks at him too and allows herself to admire him for a brief moment. His hair is stuck up in odd places, probably from when she ran her hands through it when they shared a kiss before they left his bedroom. His eyes are sparkling, like he's someone new, like he's finally happy. She can see the tell-tale of a hickey too on the side of his neck, she makes a mental note to tell him to cover it up.

"It's thought he's where everyone else is, with the Ubume." Scott sighs, again Lydia notices the crease in his forehead and his tired, lifeless eyes.

"How long do we have?" Lydia asks.

"It depends on what we find out," Scott tells her. "Me and Stiles can search the internet, you can stick with the translating."

Lydia remembers how she refused to help Derek, and almost feels bad for going against Stiles doing this. But it must be different, it's Issac they're trying to save.

"I'll get on it then." She says, and then she's focusing her attention on the paper in front of her. She reads through it first, circles the words she's unsure on so she can get Stiles to look them up later. And it doesn't take her long, the second time she reads it she writes the translation down.

She isn't sure for how long she stays cooped on the sofa by the dim lamp reading and piecing together the information. She isn't sure how many cups of coffee it takes for her to get through it. She isn't sure how many times Stiles comes in and checks on her or how many stolen kisses they share. But she is aware of when she finishes the work.

She sighs in relief when she's finished and runs into Stiles' bedroom where Scott and Stiles were working. Unsurprisingly, they've crashed with their laptops at the end of his bed and a notepad sat between them. Stiles is on his front, an arm squashed underneath him and his mouth open as he breathes. Scott lies more gracefully, with his eyes closed and hands folded over his belly.

"Get the fuck up!" Lydia calls, how dare they fall asleep when she's been up working. She runs for the bed and crashes in between them, jolting them as they start awake. Scott laughs and rubs his eyes and Stiles falls off the bed.

"Jeez Lyds, what time is it?" Stiles mutters as he tries to push himself back on his bed, she reaches a hand out to help him up and he crashes back down onto the bed, next to her.

"Like four, or something." She says, she sets her paper out in front of her as she crosses her legs and looks at the boys expectantly.

"Is the translating done?" Scott asks and Lydia nods. Stiles lifts his head up and rests it on her thigh, she tries to act casual but she feels weird because Scott's here, almost feels like it's too taboo to mention.

"I think I've found something." Lydia breathes, she can feel Stiles' hair tickle her skin, feels his breath fan on her leg. She has an urge to run her hands through his hair, scratch his scalp until he falls asleep in her lap. But she resists and forces herself to look at her notes.

"You know I can smell the sex, right?" Scott says rather bluntly but the humor is in his voice, Lydia and Stiles' head immediately snap to his direction. Lydia can feel the heat creep to her cheeks and she's actually speechless. She wants to push Stiles off the bed and run away so she doesn't have to admit to anyone how she feels.

"Dude-"

"I'm happy for you two." Scott smiles, Lydia relaxes slightly and so does Stiles, a happy smile falling on his face like that's what he needed to hear. Although Lydia doesn't want word to get out too fast, she's afraid they'll jinx what they've started and how could Lydia live then? She'd hate how she jumped into a relationship with him even though that's all she wanted.

"Thanks man," Stiles says, he's blushing but underneath the rosy cheeks she knows it's happiness. She wonders how many times Stiles would talk to Scott about his growing love for Lydia, what advice he'd give him and then how he'd go about the advice the next day. And finally, _finally,_ it doesn't have to be that way because Stiles has Lydia. He got the girl after ten years of liking and loving her.

"But what'd you find?" Scott asks, she's thankful the subjects been changed, not that she's embarrassed but because talking about feelings is hard.

"Hopefully, everything we need to know to sort this out." Lydia smiles, Stiles shifts his head, his chin now resting on her thigh. She wishes he wasn't so affectionate, makes her feel weak and vulnerable like she'll break any moment.

"So a Ubume is basically a Japanese yōkai-"

"The fuck is a yōkai?" Stiles asks.

"It's a ghost," Lydia explains. "It appears in folklore and Japanese literature and is portrayed as an old woman or a hag that usually has a child in her arms."

"Like what we saw? A child in her arms." Lydia nods and Scott bites his lip in thought.

"What then happens is that the woman, the Ubume, implores the passerby's to hold her child." Lydia tells them, they stare at her intently- hooked onto every word. "She then usually disappears and, as legend has it, the child will increase in weight and then turns into a boulder."

"Doesn't sound too dangerous, Scotty?"

"I don't think it's nothing we can't handle," Scott says. "Is there anything else to it?"

"Just the legend behind it, really." Lydia says as she files through the paper as she tries to find the page on the history behind it. "It's believed that an Ubume would be created when a mother and child would be sacrificed to be buried under a supporting pillar of a new bridge."

"Oh, shit." Stiles mutters.

"Didn't you see her on a bridge, Golden Gate Bridge?" Scott asks, it hits Lydia then that they did. She can't believe that she'd forgotten that fact until now, of course. It had to mean something, why she'd chosen that spot to taunt the public.

"Did you find anything? Nothing explains all the disappearing people." Lydia sighs, she runs a hand through Stiles' hair and scratches at it, like she wanted to do before. Who would've known how soft his hair really is when it's in her hands.

"We did actually," Scott says, he reaches for his laptop and opens it. "So what you saw was a portal which can be created when something supernatural has been created but has felt a deep amount of distress."

"Explains, they were buried under a pillar of a bridge alive." Lydia snorts.

"So we need to open the portal." Scott concludes.

There's a silence between them then as they think, it doesn't sound too dangerous but it will take a lot of thinking and working together to sort this out.

"How do we do that?" Stiles asks.

"I have no idea." Scott says, they look at each other then and they actually laugh, because this is so typically them that they have a solution but no way to get there.

Lydia smirks. "The we better start thinking."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Sorry for the long update, I've been enjoying my summer as much as I can so I took a break from writing! I hope people are still with me on this one, having so little reviews is disheartening. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter :)**

 **P.S. Go check out 'YouArtMatters23' her writing is great and so is her upcoming stories!**

* * *

It doesn't take them long to figure it out, it never does. The Golden Trio. The Banshee, the Werewolf and the Human.

They end up calling Malia over to help open the portal because they figure the only way they can do that is the same way they opened the portal for Stiles when he was taken by the ghost riders. It was easier for Stiles though, Lydia was in love with him and they were emotional tethers. But who here had that kind of connection with Issac? Sure, they all loved him dearly and missed him like hell but if anyone had loved him that way it was Allison. And Allison was gone.

But they hoped if everyone got together they'd all build some sort of force to open a portal to get Issac out.

"We need to concentrate," Scott sighs. They're sat around a rickety kitchen table and chairs, candles lit and all holding hands like they're holding a seance.

"I'm tired, Scott." Malia huffs, she leans back in her chair and they all drop their hands.

"This is Issac," Scott says, a look of determination in his eyes. "We can't lose anyone else in the pack."

"It's not even working," Stiles sounds defeated and he rubs his eyes. "Maybe we're doing it wrong?"

"We're doing it right we just aren't trying hard enough." Lydia says, she makes a pointed look at Stiles as she contradicts him but he only smiles. "We need to think of a memory we associate with him, individually."

"Do they have to be good memories?" Stiles winces, Lydia remembers that all their conversations consisted of sarcasm and witty remarks. Not exactly the kind of love that would open a portal but a brotherly love that will have to work for now.

"Anything will do," Lydia says. "Just think of it and hold onto it."

Lydia finds a memory, she thinks of the time when Issac saved her life because Allison almost shot her back in High School. Allison had been having graphic nightmares about her Aunt Kate and fell into a fugue state.

She holds onto it like a lifeline and closes her eyes as she thinks. She takes a deep breath in, tries to imagine the earthy smell of the clearing that day and how fresh the air felt when it was just her and Allison. She exhales, she remembers how panicked she was when she thought Allison was going to shoot her, she actually remembers thinking _oh fuck Stiles doesn't know how I felt after we kissed._

She feels Stiles link their fingers together and with her other hand she grasps Malia's.

She isn't sure how long it takes but all she's aware of is how tightly she squeezes Stiles' hand and the blinding light of when the portal forms.

It starts off as a dot, like the sun is the sky, but it gradually gets bigger and bigger until it takes up almost all of the room they're sitting in. Lydia squeezes Stiles' hand as if she's physically trying to tell him she loves him without words, just in case this turns ugly.

She fears that opening this portal will bring other dangers out but she wasn't going to object knowing it is Issac they're trying to save.

The portal gives off a heat, like a melt-your-skin kind of heat, that makes her eyes water. She remembers when Peter Hale came through the portal from the Ghost Riders with the severe burn marks: there was no hope for Stiles. She hopes Issac doesn't come out the same, if Issac comes out.

It's so hot that they all move out of the way, hands untangled from each other's and backing to the wall before their skin is singed.

"Get behind me," Stiles mutters as he gently tugs Lydia's body behind his. Something stirs in her chest at how protective he is, how gentle and considerate he can be, makes her knees shake a little.

She holds onto the flannel of his shirt and buries her head in it, the heat overwhelming and making her skin tingle. At some point she tuns Stiles around to face her so that he can bury his head in the crook of her neck. His face is red and has a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. There's a panic in her that this portal is going to kill them and they'll all be burnt alive and they won't save Issac.

But then there's a loud thud, like someone falling on the floor, and then the portal closes, and vanishes. There's a gust of cold too, which contrasts to the heat from a few moments ago.

Stiles slowly lifts his head from Lydia and he turns around to look at the suspected damage, his hand still grazing Lydia's waist.

"Issac?" Scott takes a stepforward. Issac lies on the wooden floor of their kitchen, his clothes crinkled, hair curled and face slightly pale.

"Someone help me get him up," Lydia rushes over to his aid and Malia follows. As best as she can, she lifts Issac up off of the floor as he takes in his surroundings and her and Malia sit him in one of the table chairs.

The space around where the portal was formed is surprisingly still in tact, despite the heat and the massive whole created. It's like it was never even there.

"How did-" Issac begins, his voice has an unusual husk about it. He looks behind him then back at the faces watching him. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," Stiles remarks. Lydia has to admire in him even in the worst of situations, his remarkable sarcasm.

"Jesus, how'd you find me?" Issac winces. He scans the room, or the people in the room. Him and Malia had only met once, briefly when the pack turned Malia back to a human.

"We're pack," Scott tells him, squeezing his shoulders. Although Issac looks doubtful. "Plus, Derek told us. He keeps tabs on you."

"Is there anything you need?" Lydia asks, a hand loosely linked with Stiles, who she has an urge to keep close to.

"A shower." Issac laughs. Now he mentions it, Lydia notices the grub on his face.

"A shower, then you tell us everything that happened." Lydia bargains, Issac nods.

* * *

They sit in Scott and Stiles' living room. Issac on the sofa, clothes clean and holding a mug of coffee. Malia's next to him and Scott on the end. There wasn't any room for Lydia and Stiles on the sofa so they sit opposite, back against an uncomfortable coffee table and his arm slung over her shoulder. It would be considered comfy, if it weren't for the circumstances.

"I guess I should start with the weirdest thing about the whole situation," Issac starts, he places his coffee down and rubs his hands together, everyone leans forward, intrigued. "Allison was there."

Lydia's eyes snap up to his and she has a rush of emotions. Happiness, anger and a hint of grief.

"Allison?" Scott echoes, his voice and eyes distant.

"As in Argent?" Lydia shakes her head and Issac nods back at her. Issac looks distant too, like he's reliving a moment they had together. "As in our best friend that was stabbed by the Oni and who we buried?"

"Yes, she's there." Issac states, although now he's shaking his head.

"How is that possible?" Stiles whispers, almost to himself.

"It's a long story," Issac sighs.

"Trust me, we got time." Scott says. Something in Scott's eyes is eager, but there's also fear lacing his words. What if she's been in danger this whole time and Scott didn't even realize?

"If you're human and you're killed by something supernatural you don't actually die." Issac tells them, everyone exchanges confused glances and Issac rubs his forehead. "It's so confusing- _God-_ it's a bit like believing in after life, that when you die your soul lives on. That's what happens to a human killed by a supernatural, Allison's body was killed but her spirit, it lived and went to this other world."

"So does Allison have a body?" Malia asks, she looks confused and like she's trying to piece everything she knows together in her head.

Issac looks at her like it was the most stupidest question to ask. "Of course she has a body, but not one that exists in this world."

"So she's still over there?" Lydia asks, she's hopeful suddenly that she can get her best-friend back after all these years.

But wouldn't it be strange? Having someone in your life after believing they would be gone forever?

"Yes, the thing is, I think I only passed through the portal because I'm supernatural." Issac explains.

"How'd you even get there in the first place?" Stiles asks.

"It's called an Ubume-" Issac begins, Stiles and Lydia exchange a look. "But once upon a time an angry cult of lady-ghosts who had all been killed along with their children created this world, another dimension for souls to go to if they were killed by supernatural. It seems like a good thing really but as time grew on, Ubume's began taking anything that had a run in with a supernatural, and then if they got lucky something that actually was supernatural."

"And you were unlucky enough to be taken?" Malia questions and Issac nods.

"How do you know all this stuff?" Scott asks.

"It's literally a world over there, except it only consists of those who were killed by supernaturals or if you are supernatural. They have library's and computers to research it all on. Me and Allison worked it all out." Issac says.

Lydia tries to picture it, Beacon Hills Library, except it would be a lot less busier. She tries to picture High Streets and restaurants where these people can live a life except they're dead.

"We need to get Allison back." Scott tells the pack, it's a statement not a question of whether it's possible or not.

"I'm pretty sure I was only able to get out because I'm supernatural." Issac sighs, running a hand through his curly hair.

"Wait, does this mean Allison is a ghost? Or if she came back would she be human?" Lydia asks.

"It's a type of purgatory, I guess." Issac explains. "Hypothetically she should be a ghost, but when I touched her she was warm, and I can hear her heart."

"So she's alive." Scott whispers, a sort of relief washing over his face.

"Then we need to get her out." Lydia says.

She has a vision then, of a life that her and Allison could have together. They could be each others Maid of Honor's, share a dorm room, talk boys again. She clings onto that thought like it's going to save her. She holds onto it with everything she has because she can feel all her broken pieces come back together.

"Is Heather over there?" Stiles asks quietly. His expression is sad, and Lydia notices why he's been quiet in the past few minutes.

Lydia feels like she should be jealous for him bringing Heather up when he's with her now, but instead she admires his consideration. They've known each other since they were babies, even longer than Scott and Stiles.

"I didn't see her," Issac confirms. "But that doesn't mean to say she's not! I only stayed in one place when I was there, like I said, it's practically another world over there."

Stiles nods, so Lydia squeezes his hand in hopes it will comfort him.

"So, how do we save Allison?" Malia asks the question everyone was thinking. How do you save someone who you thought was dead for however many years?

"Do we open up another portal?" Issac guesses.

"I think we need an expert," Lydia sighs. "Scott, call Deaton."

* * *

Deaton got to Scott and Stiles' apartment as fast as he could, but still it took hours. Deaton was all the way back in Beacon Hills, and San Jose isn't down the road. Scott explained briefly over the phone what the problem was, but Lydia couldn't imagine how confused he would be hearing that there was a way to get Alison back. Or maybe Deaton got here as soon as he could because he thought Scott was having some sort of break down, seeming as everything that had happened with Kira and all.

"Issac?" Deaton says as soon as he walks into the living room. Issac gives a little wave, and Deaton just shakes his head. They haven't seen each other since Issac was in Junior year of High School.

"I think I know what you're dealing with," Deaton says immediately. That's what Lydia has always admired about him, his knowledge: his mind is a library and he shares all his books with them. "The more I was thinking about it on the way up, the more it made sense."

"We know we're dealing with an Ubume," Lydia tells him so that it's clear. "We want to know how to get Allison out."

Lydia cringes when she hears herself sound so hopeful, like things can go back to the way they were. She tries not to get her hopes up, they're bringing back someone who was thought dead, it can't be easy for the pack or for Allison. But she has faith that things will be okay, because it's Allison, after all.

"It sounds like you're dealing with a kind of ghost world." Deaton explains.

"Then how come I was there?" Issac asks, his face an expression of bewilderment.

"The supernatural have a knack to twisting the rules, as we learnt from the dread doctors." Deaton tells them, everyone shivers, remembering the time. "But there is always one key thing about the rules."

"It must maintain the balance." Scott says quietly when Deaton pauses. His brows are knitted together in concentration and he's chewing on his nails.

"Exactly," Deaton says. "And how do we do that when we're trying to bring the dead back to the living?"

The pack exchange confused glances, for once Deaton has lost all of them. Even the brainiest.

"I sincerely hope you have the answer to that question because I'm stumped." Malia sighs, she's rubbing her forehead as if cursing herself for not being smarter.

"If you open another portal, you need to keep it open otherwise Allison won't be able to come through." Deaton says, he's flicking through a book at this point trying to find an explanation, Lydia assumes.

"So how do we do that?" Stiles asks.

"It will be a team effort, and even more so because Issac will have to go in and save her whilst someone strong stands between the portal, to balance it." He says.

The minute Deaton says 'strong' everyone's eyes land on Scott. Although it would feel right if he was the one that went in to save her he's more suited to this role. Scott's determined, anyway. He'll give it all he's got to save her, even if it means his own death. He's selfless like that.

"So if Issac is going in, and Scott's balancing the two worlds, what is everyone else doing?" Malia asks. Lydia remembers then how odd this must be for her, Issac is in the same room as her since the day the pack changed her back to human. She's also going to be meeting an old pack member whom everyone thought was dead.

"You'll be opening another portal." Deaton tells them simply.

Then a thought registers in Lydia's mind. In the midst of the excitement that her best friend is coming back, Lydia forms a clear thought about Allison's dad. Shouldn't he be here when she comes through the portal? Or would it be all to over whelming for her? Lydia had kept in contact with Argent, but thinking of it, she hadn't text him in over a month.

"Guys, wait." Lydia speaks up. "Shouldn't we call Argent?"

"Do we have time?" Scott asks, his voice is urgent, like he needs to see Allison right now before he loses his mind. She guesses his hopes are as high as hers, if not higher, and he can't contain himself.

"He's her dad." Lydia replies, she can see the annoyance in Scott's eyes and she doesn't blame him. It must be confusing knowing your ex-girlfriend can still come back, and that it can be done almost immediately.

"Lydia has a point." Stiles sticks up for her, she isn't sure if it's because he believes in this or if he believes in Lydia. But she's happy he's said it.

"We can ring him later," Scott sighs. "Argent will be one of the first people Allison sees."

"So when do we do it?" Issac asks.

"It's getting late," Deaton says, tilting his watch to face him. "Let's get some rest, then we'll open up a portal tomorrow."

Scott almost protests, but he bites his tongue and nods. Lydia can imagine how frustrating that must be for him, he just wants to see Allison.

"I'll go call Argent then." Scott mumbles and leaves the room. Lydia, Stiles, Issac, Malia and Deaton sit in the kitchen, staring into space, she presumes they're all thinking of Allison.

"Do you think things will be normal when she comes back?" Stiles whispers to Lydia, his mouth pressed against her ear.

"I hope so," Lydia whispers back, grasping his hand and squeezing it. "I think that would be more unbearable than not having her at all."


	10. Chapter Ten

**This is the last chapter, I've enjoyed writing this and I'm proud of it :) I hope those who read or will read like it too! Please review, they make my day :)**

* * *

"Lyds, are you okay? You haven't said anything in like twenty minutes." Stiles asks softly as Lydia sits on his bed, resting against his head board and fiddles with a loose thread on his sheets.

He's right, though. So there's no brushing it off. She can't comprehend how someone who has been dead for so long can come back, like nothing even happened. It's absurd and ludicrous, really. She isn't saying she doesn't want Allison to come back, she's just having difficulty grasping that she can come back at all.

"I'm fine," She nods, and forces a smile on her face. She doesn't know why she bothers doing it, Stiles can read her like a book, he can look straight into her eyes and tell if she's lying or not.

"You don't have to pretend," He says, his voice so gentle and low Lydia just wants to hold him forever. "C'mon, talk to me." He sits next to her on the bed, reaching out for her hand and kissing it affectionately when he gets it.

Lydia goes weak, he's so kind and considerate and compassionate that it makes her insides fail.

"I can't stop thinking about Allison," She tells him quietly, almost ashamed. "How are we so sure that everything is going to be okay again?"

Stiles seems to consider this for a moment, he chews on his bottom lip. "After all those years we had with Allison, after all that love she gave us, time away from her won't change that."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because I'm crazily smart," He winks at her, and instantly her mood lightens because of his humor, or his smile. She isn't sure which one it is. She also isn't sure why she believes him, but she does, in that moment. She doesn't believe in people anymore, she's seen too much evil, but she believes in Stiles.

"I'm not to sure about that one." Lydia jokes, her nose scrunching up as she tries to conceal her surge of happiness that only Stiles can give her.

"You bully me." He smirks, but Lydia's distracted because his stupidly pink lips are curling up at the ends and she can see him wet his lower lip with that damn tongue of his.

"I think _you_ bully _me_." She says back but it comes out so breathless that Stiles believes her. She places a kiss on his jaw, letting it linger there, then she goes for his lips.

Their mouths meet in a way that seems so familiar, like they've done this thousand times. He tastes sweet, like waffles and blueberries. Lydia finds herself sitting on his lap in order to get better access to his lips, those damn lips that worked wonders on her a few nights ago.

His tongue nudges its way into her mouth and she involuntarily grinds on him, she wishes she hadn't. It sparks something inside of them, a new kind of desperation that they don't have time for right now.

"Stiles," She sighs, tracing her fingers shakily along his jaw. "We can't."

Stiles pulls back from her and rests his forehead on hers. She expects him to look annoyed but he looks too well loved to have a trace of anger on his face.

"You know, when we're older we can do this whenever we want." He tells her, it makes her heart stop. It should frighten her that they've only dated a few days and he's already mentioning their future, but it's like they've both known this for so long that they can't help but be excited.

"I love you," Lydia whispers into his skin. "I really do."

Stiles pulls back from her again, smiling this time. It's like he can't believe that this is what it took to get Lydia, here in his arms and telling him she loves him.

He doesn't say it back, which she doesn't mind, she knows he already does. But instead of speaking the few words, he shows her.

* * *

The reality of the day sets in after her love-blinding haze washes over her and she suddenly feels weird again. Scott called Argent at some point during the night and he's on his way up from Beacon Hills. There's a nervousness humming through the air, and everyone can feel it, so many things can go wrong. Scott might not be able to balance out the two worlds, Issac might not be able to find Allison, Allison might not make it because she's not supernatural and everything can just be horribly awkward if everything else goes right.

She wonders what they'll talk about and she wonders if they'll pretend Allison just went away for a while and didn't actually die. All of a sudden her dream from a few nights ago makes sense, maybe she sensed Allison's presence without realizing. Or it could've been a freaky coincidence, but Lydia knows better. Allison was- _is_ \- her best friend, she's connected to her like a sister. She dreamed her death to know she was alive.

It's creeping into noon when Argent arrives, Lydia notes how his eyes are heavy but there's a spark in them, like the only reason he's got through another day is because of the hope that Allison is alive.

Scott embraces Argent the minute his foot grazes the floor inside the door, she thinks they're both crying. Lydia realizes that even if things don't go back to the way they were, they'll always love Allison, no matter what, and that's more important.

"Have you done it yet?" Argent asks when everyone gathers in their small living room. His eyes search around the room, flicking past Malia and Issac, lingering on Lydia's and Stiles' clasped hands and landing on Deaton.

"We waited for you." Scott tells him, squeezing his arm. He slips past him so that he's in the center of the group, easily signalling he's the leader, the alpha. "This will only work if we all work together," Scott tells them. "We need to open another portal, but this time for Allison."

"How do we do that?" Argent asks.

"We all think of her, anything that we loved about her, any memory, anything." Scott informs everyone. Lydia already starts raking up memories of her, the things she loved most, the secrets they shared.

"And when do we do it?" Argent questions, his eyes are pooling with tears and he bites his lip to stop them falling.

"Now."

* * *

They all joined hands, as Deaton had said, it would create a powerful opening if they all came and connected their thoughts together. Lydia can't feel anything different though when the smallest flicker of fire starts, burning a hole open for Allison to miraculously step through.

"You have to be careful Scott," Deaton yells over the loud sound the portal creates. "It'll drain you physically very quickly, if we lose you while balancing the worlds out, we might not be able to get you out."

"I can do it." Scott says reassuringly.

"How long do I have?" Issac breathes out, Lydia notices the tremor in his hands, she isn't sure if it's nerves or excitement.

"You can't be longer than twenty minutes." Deaton tells him, the burning ember of the fire grows and Lydia squints her eyes just enough to see Scott turn into a shadow and Issac disappear.

A little montage of Allison plays in her head. She remembers confidently walking up to Allison in the hallway on her first day, a little intimated by her beauty, and telling her that she was going to be her best friend. She cringe-mistakenly thinks of the awkward double date at bowling with Scott and Jackson. She remembers her birthday party. Gazing at freshmen. Choosing paint for her new room. Shooting arrows into the about Scott and Stiles. Eating lunch. Shopping. Studying. Her death.

It's like her heart stops beating for a minute when she remembers how crushing that felt. Losing a best friend is ten times worse when you only have one, one you treat like a sister, and that's what killed Lydia the most. She never knew what it was like to even have a friend like that, let alone a sister. She always believed a piece of her died too, with Allison. Maybe that's why she's broken. Maybe it has nothing to do with boys and relationships but rather her love for her best friend who she lost.

She's aware then of how tightly she's squeezing Stiles' hand.

She tries to focus on time too, how long it's been since Issac went through the portal but her mind is buzzing, for all she knows it might of only been a matter of minutes.

Then there's a loud, sharp gasp and behind Lydia's eyelids it darkens, signalling the end of the fire the portal created.

Lydia almost doesn't want to open her eyes, she isn't prepared to see if Allison is there or if she isn't. How do you look at someone who has been dead for years? Or is like some things never change?

"Lydia," Stiles nudges her gently. Her hand still locked in his, she gradually opens her eyes not realizing until now that she was crying, her vision is blurry at first but then it clears and she sees her. As clear as day. Allison Argent.

Her face, as fresh as a raindrop, looks from Scott's face to her dad's- delighted.

Then it turns sour and Lydia wishes she never opened her eyes.

Allison begins forming the word 'Lydia' in her mouth but all of a sudden she clenches her stomach and falls to the ground, in Scott's arms. It's history repeating itself, except this time, Lydia doesn't feel the urge to scream.

"What's happening?" Argent turns to Deaton, somewhat blaming him.

"I don't know, I-" He tries to form but Argent has him by the collar and he's pushing him against the wall, tipping over their little coffee table.

Lydia focuses her attention on Allison, who's dressed exactly the same as when she died; a purple patterned dress, black leggings and knee length boots. Even her nail varnish is the same scarlet red.

"Cut it out." She hears Stiles say to Argent and Deaton, she watches him drag them apart and she crouches beside Allison and Scott.

"What do we do? Is this supposed to happen?" Scott cries, Lydia shakes her head trying to collect her thoughts. She shrugs out of her jacket and balls it up, placing it on Allison's wound, in hopes to keep her alive longer.

But Lydia thinks, in some sick way, that this was supposed to happen. That she left this world with a stab wound so if she re-entered it, this was likely to happen.

"We can't let history repeat itself," Lydia says almost to herself. "Everyone get back." She orders, but she allows Scott to stay, as he cradles her as he did before.

"How do we stop it?" Issac calls out, he's a shaking mess and he's gone whiter than paper.

"Call an ambulance, now." Scott orders.

"I don't think it was meant to be-" She hears Allison whisper. It's still the exact same voice of Allison and it frightens Lydia slightly. She's momentarily forgotten she's dying, again.

"Don't talk, save your breath." Lydia tells her, noticing the lack of color in her face. Stiles hands her a towel then which she uses to stop the bleeding coming from the other side of the wound. "I think she's on her way to a punctured lung."

"How do you know that?" Scott asks, bewildered. She can tell he's trying to keep his calm, but everything inside him is raging like a storm.

"Her apostasy," Lydia reminds him, whilst tying a tourniquet around her stomach. Allison heaves a breath. "She died from blood loss and a punctured lung, she couldn't get enough air so her lungs gave out. Naturally."

"So how do we stop it?"

"We have to give her more oxygen than what she's getting right now." Lydia says, there's no blood forming on Allison's lips this time, which she takes as a good sign, but nevertheless she fears she's going to die.

"Stiles, under my bed there's an oxygen mask with a small tank." Scott tells him, Stiles nods and runs out of the room.

"Why do you have that?"

"My mum gave me it, in case there was ever a casualty in my hands." He replies, his eyes are focusing on Allison. She looks at her too, her eyes slowly drooping and losing the light they always carry.

"Allison, you have to stay awake." Lydia reminds her, she brushes her hair out of her face, and Allison tries to form a smile. She can't believe she's here, and even though she's dying, she's ever so thankful to get the chance to at least attempt to save her.

Stiles comes back in with the oxygen mask and the tank, if you can call it that. It's miniature but she supposes it will have to do until the medics get here. She wonders how they'll explain this one without Melissa here to sort it out. Scott shakily places the mask over her face, she sucks in a breath, and Lydia's scared it's her last but she continues to breathe, in and out, with the mask there for support.

It doesn't take long for the ambulance to come, and thankfully they don't ask any questions yet, they just whisk her away with Argent following since he's the only family member.

Lydia's caked in blood, just like Scott and there's a puddle of it on their floor now too.

"How did you know what to do?" Stiles asks her as he guides her to the bathroom where he runs the warm water to clean her off.

"After Allison died, I had Melissa teach me a few first aid skills, because I couldn't stand the thought of losing anyone else, or at least I could try to save them. The rest was adrenaline." She shrugs and he gently douses water on her and cleans under her nails.

"Do you think she'll live?" Stiles asks quietly, and Lydia almost chooses to ignore it but she solemnly shakes her head.

"But I hope she does."

* * *

It's a long twelve hours waiting to hear anything from Argent on Allison, but when the phone rings, Scott rushes to answer it.

"She's alive." Scott says, like he's testing the words out. "She's _alive_."

"Oh my god, Scott!" Lydia jumps up and runs into his arms, she can't help but feel elated. She's back, for good this time. "Can we see her?"

"Yeah, she's being released today." Scott exclaims but Lydia pulls back confused.

"How?"

"The five herbs," Scott tells them all this time. "The stab wound was from an Oni, a supernatural. So the five herbs work on her."

"Before she comes back, I think we need to figure out why she was injured." Deaton reminds them. Lydia sinks down next to Stiles again, her momentary happiness vanishes.

For once Deaton doesn't have a clue, he has no books or Druid information on it. Lydia finds that frustrating, he always knows what he's doing. and the one time they need him to know more than ever he doesn't.

"Well if she left this world with a stab wound, wouldn't she enter with one?" Lydia tells him, it seems logical, so she's been telling herself it since Allison came out of the portal. She also wants it to be that simple, she doesn't want a load of supernatural bullshit that is always smothered on top.

"Perhaps, but what if the Ubume knew we were messing with the two worlds? What if they wanted to mess with us?" Deaton says, almost like he should be thinking it not saying it.

She wishes he didn't say it to be honest, she forgot about the Ubume because of the thought of having her best friend back was greater. She doesn't want to fight another monster, or kill the bad guy. She wants to be as normal as she can be.

"So do we stop the Ubume?" Stiles asks, looking up at Deaton for an answer. Although they all know the answer to that, he asks it anyway.

"Can we kill it?" Malia asks, Lydia notices how quiet she's been since bringing Allison back, she wonders what is going through her head at the minute.

How do you look someone in the eye who you've only known as the dead hunter, the dead best friend, the dead lover? How do you know you aren't dreaming when something as bizarre as this happens?

"I think maybe we can save it." Deaton tells them, although something deflates in Lydia, not because she wants to kill it, but because she's exhausted of saving all these people when they don't deserve it. Who ever saves her?

"I say we kill it." Malia shrugs and looks at Stiles for a note of confidence, he winces and scratches behind his ear. Lydia still notices how Malia looks at him for social cues, she thinks it's kind of sweet, that she wants to do the right thing.

"How do we save it?" Lydia asks, earning a scowl from Malia at the dismissal of her idea. " _Hypothetically_."

"Aren't the Ubumes Japanese spirits? Aren't they already dead?" Stiles counters, remembering the research Lydia had did which she'd forgotten about by now.

"If they're already dead then we can't kill them." Issac contributes, who Lydia forgot was sitting there for a moment, he was intently listening.

"Then we save them," Scott says, nodding his head.

"How do we save someone who's dead?" Malia asks, her brows knitted together as she looks at Scott then to Deaton.

Lydia almost laughs, all this conversations has been ''what if's" and then finding an excuse to contradict what was said.

"Then we redeem it." Lydia suggests. She tries to think back to shitty horror films she's watched where there are evil spirits and then the characters try to give it peace, she comes up with nothing but the idea of redeeming it, for whatever reason.

"I'm not so sure we can do that," Deaton replies, his face scrunched in thought and he itches his chin. "But what if the same we defeat it, is the same way we deafeted the Nogitsune?"

"How so?" Stiles asks, his arm tensing at the mention of it. Lydia knows he still gets nightmares about it, he knows how guilty he felt when Allison and Aiden died.

"If it's a Japanese spirit, it compares to the Nogitsune. What if all we do is change the host?" Deaton explains, Lydia considers it, tries to think of something better but her mind is to sore.

"So, the woman Lydia seen- the Ubume - I have to bite it?" Scott shifts uncomfortably, like he didn't like the last time he had to do that because Stiles crumbled to pieces, or the last beta he made left Beacon Hills and never came back.

"I think that it will work, yes." Deaton nods at Scott, like he believes in him.

"How do we get to her?" Issac asks, Deaton raises an eyebrow like it's obvious.

"We pretend to be a passerby."

* * *

Lydia doesn't get a reunion with Allison, she gets a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. She doesn't need to tell her how much she's missed her. She already knows. Her reunion with Scott is more intimate, and Lydia can tell there's tension between Scott and Issac, although Lydia thinks it's obvious who she'll go back to. It's been Scott from day one.

So they're outside, on the Golden Gate bridge, the wind whipping their hair over their faces. Allison has a bow and arrow, and it's like she wasn't even gone because Lydia has never felt more comfortable standing next to someone as she is right now, next to her best friend.

"Anyone need reminding of the plan?" Scott asks. Malia nods, a crease in her forehead.

"Me and Issac are going up to her, she'll be confused because it's Issac and he was in the other world. When she's distracted I'll bite her, and it'll be over. Everyone will be freed from the other world." He tells them, they gather around each other. "Malia, you'll be covering us on the other side of the road, Stiles you'll be by that building there, trying to get people to turn back and not walk this route. Allison and Lydia, you stay here, keep watch and if anything happens, we depend on you."

Lydia nods, but weirdly doesn't feel any pressure, not with Allison by her side.

"How do I divert the people?" Stiles murmurs as he hugs Lydia goodbye.

"With your awkward charm and sarcasm," Lydia teases softly, she pecks his lips and he smiles. "That's what hooked me in."

"Glad to hear it." He winks, then everyone sets off and she's left alone with her dead, but now alive, best friend.

"So you and Stiles?" Is the first thing she properly says, and Lydia can't help it, she laughs. It's so strange and wonderful to see that bright smile of Allison's and just hear her voice. It brings back too many waves of nostalgia.

"You and Scott?" Lydia mocks back, she smiles too, and feels her heart swell at how good it feels to smile at her best friend, and be smiled at back.

"I'm not sure he loves me anymore." She scrunches her nose up and shakes her head, but Lydia can see the hurt behind her soft features and suddenly sees herself in her a lot more than she ever did.

"After that many years of loving someone, I'm not sure you can stop." Lydia replies, she wants to believe that, that's what she told herself when Stiles was with Malia.

"But then I feel bad on Issac, and he was the one in that world with me." Allison sighs and looks over at Scott and Issac approach this woman, she loads and arrow in her bow in case, although Lydia thinks everything will run smoothly.

"You can't blame yourself for not loving him." Lydia reminds her, and Allison nods.

"It feels so good to be able to talk to you again." Allison laughs and shakes her head and Lydia smiles too, because she completely agrees.

It's quiet after that, but it's the most comfortable silence in the world.

They watch Scott pull the Ubumes arm back, and he bites into her wrist, Lydia cringes but Allison doesn't. The Ubume crumbles into dust just like void Stiles did, but it takes a few moments for the portal to rip open and multiple people tumble out, some with wounds and some just walking off like normal. But there's doctors on call near by so everything fits into place. It takes hour for them to leave the scene, Scott couldn't let the lives of these people hang like they meant nothing.

Lydia feels good about a something supernatural now, she has her best friend back.

* * *

It's been four months since Lydia's first semester began and a week since Allison's has. Lydia was becoming herself again, she could feel her confidence coming back, the voices dying down and she felt loved. So, so, _so_ loved.

She moved out of the apartment that she shared with Amelia and Conrad, which she will miss because they were nice people, and moved into a small place with Allison where everything was like it was planned when Allison was alive the first time around. Allison doesn't go to Stanford though, she does a course in Criminology at a community college. She wants to be a police officer, a bit like Stiles.

And Stiles. She doesn't mope around thinking of him, she sees him every other day and things cannot get boring even if they tried. She love it, loves him.

"What time are they coming round?" Allison asks as she writes down notes from her big, tatty textbook. They've both been working hard, Allison especially, she doesn't want to waste er life now she's got it back.

"In about ten." Lydia says, checking her phone for the time.

Allison got back with Scott, and they couldn't be more in love. A bit like her and Stiles, and Issac was okay about it, Lydia thinks he's getting things on with Malia now. So they decided they would have a movie night every Friday if they didn't have parties to go to, and seeming as Lydia would rather sit on Stiles' lap and watch a horror with sugary foods, they opted for a movie night this week.

There's a tap on the door and Lydia sprints to answer it, she can't help how excited she gets to see Stiles, she isn't sure how she managed to keep distance between them before because every time she sees him it feel like she's being reborn, makes her feel like she cannot breathe anymore.

"Hi." She smiles as she opens the door, Scott carries a pack of beers in one hand and two large pizza boxes in the other. Stiles has a bag of popcorn, a lopsided grin on his face and a glint in his eye.

They step inside and when Scott enters the living room, Lydia pushes Stiles against the wall of their small hallway, making the popcorn bag fall to the ground. Their lips meet and Lydia wonders how she hasn't done this in two whole days.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to a greeting like that." Stiles chuckles, a hand cupping her face. He smells fresh and so much like home that Lydia's nose tickles.

"Well, live with it." She smiles, her lip catching between her teeth. "You're staying the night, right?"

"Obviously," He smirks. She kisses him again and smiles, she's never smiled so much in her life. Her cheeks are always hurting now from smiling and laughing all the time, but she doesn't mind the paying that price to be happy.

"Good." She cants her hips up slightly, so she's right up against him and something of a sigh escapes both of their mouths. Denim on her bare thigh, she doesn't know a combination much better than that.

They eventually calm down and go into the living room where Allison and Scott are, talking with their faces close by one another. They stick on a crappy horror film, about a possessed child or something, but Lydia doesn't take notice. All she can focus on is the sound of her best-friend breathing beside her and Stiles' hands holding her body.

She'd always felt for a long time that something was missing, incomplete. She didn't know it was because she was missing two people in her life, but having Allison back was just that spark she needed to feel like her again, to feel whole.

So no, she wasn't broken because she thought a boy didn't love her, she was broken because she missed her best friend. She isn't broken anymore, she's whole.


End file.
